One Day at a Time
by Edward Anthony Ferris
Summary: Tonak Enos. Mercenary, smuggler, bounty hunter, assassin, bodyguard...former Imperial Black Ops. In an attempt to find himself some work after he is forced to leave the Empire, Enos accepts a job with a small payout to keep himself afloat. The mission is simple: pull the trigger. However, a twist of fate leaves him hunted and searching for an alternative...
1. Turning Tables

_Star Wars _

_Chapter One- Turning tables_

_Moor's Cantina, Corellia._

_30.6ABY_

Corellia. I'd only been there once or twice, on official business.

The planet, as a whole, was dominated by small towns and lush, flourishing wildlife. There were a few large cities, each based around trade, tourism, and gambling. Some of the finest casinos in the galaxy were to be found on Corellia. The planet was well known for its skill in producing warships, and for its allegiance to the Galactic Federation of Free Alliances, or Galactic Alliance, for short. Also famous, was the Corellian Brandy, brewed and sold only from the city of Coronet, the planet's capital.

I happened to be in Coronet, sipping on said praised brandy, patiently awaiting in a cantina for the arrival of one Destrivan Kojuun, a businessman from the Outer Rim. Four...no, _five_ hours had passed since he'd last contacted me. In my line, or lines, of work, this was extremely common. As the phrase went, "_You don't understand patience until you've waited on a smuggler._"

_Seems to be true,_ I thought, nodding to the waitress droid to bring me another shot.

Ordinarily, I'd have left the cantina after being forced to wait for such a duration, especially for the simply moderate amount of credits at stake. However, the last month had not been kind to me. In the six months to date that I'd taken this life, I had worked a dozen jobs ranging from small time smuggling to my most recent: The assassination of a city governor on Toydaria. My skills had been tested, yet not strained. I knew I was far above the assignments I'd been receiving. I could, with great ease, shoot Kojuun on the spot and be done with him if I wanted. However, as I said, the past month had been very cruel, and quite deprived of work. The Galactic Alliance had put a blanket ban on all smugglers not serving under their flag. While I had other abilities, smuggling was the easiest by far, and the highest paying. So I'd ran into Destrivan here on Corellia, and since been taking small assignments from him to keep myself afloat financially.

I had skills, as I've said, that were far superior to even that of the great Han Solo, or Boba Fett. Unlike them, I had proper training.

I was born in 0 ABY, on the very day the Death Star was destroyed over Yavin IV, on Naboo. I grew up in the city of Theed, the son of a merchant and a painter. I had a fine young life.

Until the Empire came.

When I was ten, I was abducted from my home by Imperial agents, and my parents murdered. From there, I was taken to the remote planet of Jekato, where I was to spend the next two decades training under the watchful eyes of the Imperial Praetorian Program, an attempt to create a stealth tactical unit more deadly than any in the galaxy. They taught me, forcibly, the arts of hand to hand combat, how to handle a blaster better than any other, terminal hacking, a nearly impossible pilot school, demolitions, escape and evasion, wilderness survival, espionage, assassination, smuggling (or their view of it), the history of the galaxy, and many other topics. By the time I turned thirty, I was a machine. The perfect tool for the Empire. Top of my class.

And then, six months ago, the Galactic Alliance launched a blitz attack on the facility, leveling it completely. Of all fifty of my classmates, my brothers in arms, I was the only survivor. Since then, I'd been living on the Program's prototype stealth freighter, the _DarkRider_, bouncing from planet to planet seeking work. My long term plan? Make enough to settle down, and start a family. I had plenty of time to do so. Due to my being a Chiss, my lifespan was greater than that of a standard human, with an average lifespan of one hundred-fifty years (assuming he/she is not a Jedi, or does not take medical duration enhancers). This would allow twenty or so years of hard work and banking credits before I could buy an isolated plot of land on Naboo somewhere, and raise a farm in peace with the remaining two-thirds of my life.

It was a good a plan as any.

"I hope I'm not interrupting you, Fox."

I plunged a hand into my jacket, ready to snatch my heavy revolver from its hiding place and level the one who had spoken to me, for I did not recognize his voice.

Yet he knew me as the Blue Fox.

A human man stepped into view, his hands raised. "Easy, killer. Kojuun sent me."

I stared him down, slowly easing my left hand out of my flight jacket, while dropping my right to my thigh where a matching pistol was holstered. He was of average build, with one mechanical eye and a gloved left hand. He wore a wide brimmed hat over his pale face and scraggly beard, and a trench coat that no doubt was loaded with blasters and grenades. His boots were hard Bantha skin, like mine. Combat boots.

This man was, beyond the shadow of a doubt, a smuggler.

"Prove it." I demanded, unclasping my pistol.

The man cautiously retrieved a holodisk from his jacket, placing it gingerly on the table. The other cantina denizens had begun to stare. An image appeared above the disk, as expected, and the scarred Twi'lek face of Destrivan popped into view.

"Mr. Fox," the miniature said, crossing his arms, "You will not be meeting with me, for I am elsewhere dealing with more pressing matters. The man you see before you, Neslan Price, is my assistant. He will give you your instructions. Oh, and the passcode is: Endor."

The hologram faded.

"Endor" was the code word that would indicate that the message was recorded of his own free will, the code for a disturbance was "Bespin". The codes were changed randomly before each assignment, to prevent a pattern. I nodded to the man, Nelsan Price, and indicated for him to sit opposite me.

"Waitress," he said, his face now cheery and confident, "I'll have an inch of Corkscrew, on ice, if you'd please."

The droid acknowledged, wheeling away.

Price turned to me, meeting my eyes for the first time. He stared for a brief moment, before his gaze dropped to my arms, then to my drink. _He's no rookie,_ I thought, deciding that he was sizing me up and creating a personality profile inside his head. Exactly as I had done to him. I was a "big guy" to most. I was just above average height, though the years of vigorous daily workouts had left me...completely ripped. My arms were large enough to stretch the fabric of my flight jacket nearly to the breaking point, and my chest thick and stocky. My lower body matched its upper counterpart, yet I was not nearly as large as some of the other races, or even as large as some of the humans who dedicated their lives to building muscle.

As the Empire put it, "You're big enough to handle almost any foe, yet still small enough to be stealthy and agile."

"Mr. Fox," Price said, trying to meet my glowing red eyes, "Shall we get to business?"

The droid had already brought him his drink, which was a bright, neon green.

_Must've dazed off._

"Yes, let's."

Price reached into his jacket, and slowly, cautiously, retrieved a datapad. "These are the targets we wish for you to...handle."

He slid the datapad across the table. I cast a quick glance at it, daring to take my eyes off the other smuggler. There were two images, each of humans. The one on the right, I couldn't identify, though the name read_ Bandor Ysilvanti._ The man on the left was unmistakable. It was Han Solo. I stared hard for a moment, noticing the red "X" over Ysilvanti's face, and none on Solo's.

"Explain."

Price took a sip of his liquor, his face screwing up. "Always so sour," He shot me a grin, but caught the look of "_No crap, just business_", and he cleared his throat, "Well, as you can see, we want absolutely no harm to befall Han Solo. The man on the right, is a space pirate. Scum. He owes Kojuun a lot of money and refuses to pay. He must pay with his life."

I nodded, my face emotionless. "I understand. Why is Solo even a factor?"

Price shrugged. "They're together for a while. Our spies say that Ysilvanti asked the Alliance for protection, in exchange for information on how to catch Kojuun. That, in turn, would result in the capture of many more smugglers. So, just travel to Bakura, silence him, and meet me back here."

I nodded again. "Parameters?"

"Solo is alive and unharmed, and your hand is not detected."

"Payout?"

"Ten-thousand credits."

"Done."

Price extended a hand, which I left openly hanging, refusing to show any sign of emotion. I rose from my seat, placing a Five-Credit piece on the table. Price motioned to walk in front of me, as if to leave first, though I placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Price," I whispered, making sure that there wasn't anyone watching anymore, "If you cross me on this, you'll pay with _your_ life. Clear?"

The man hesitated, his breathing calm. "Crystal, Mr. Fox."

...

_Galactic Alliance Safehouse, Bakura_

_30.6 ABY_

Bakura.

A temperate, average planet in the Wild Space region.

The locals exported mostly strategic metals and repulsorlift coils, fueling their economy. The Alliance had full control over the planet's profitable market, and judging by the deviation from the standard run-of-the-mill military base (this one being very clean and well kept), they were reaping the rewards. The sun-bleached duracrete walls stood at an impressive twenty feet, tall enough to keep out blaster fire from infantry, yet just low enough for an AT-AT to stand behind and level the base with impunity.

_Morons,_ I thought, adjusting the rifle scope, _And not even any ray shields._

The base was clean, expensive, and intimidating. Yet poorly designed. Merely a façade for anyone wishing to infiltrate it.

I doubled my grip on my sniper rifle, a Tenloss T-6 Disruptor, and panned the expanse of the military fort, my sights set to thermal signature. Ysilvanti's own DNA pattern would glow red in my sights, whereas the environment was green, and the other beings blue. From this distance, mere visual optics would not suffice, and I could not afford to miss and alert the target, or hit Solo.

An hour I'd waited, patiently observing the base from afar. Soon, very soon, Ysilvanti would have to make an appearance of some form, else the military personell at the base would become suspicious as to why one building was off limits, and they'd learn of the price on his head.

_Nobody takes my kill_, I thought, wiping sweat off my brow.

Movement by the third storage unit.

I slammed my eye onto the scope, focusing so intently on the slowly rising door that I thought my gaze alone would set it ablaze. It was opening so slowly…

A pair of boots were visible…no, two.

Black pants, and white pants with orange stripes.

_Come on, hurry up._

A dark blue jacket, and a white shirt with black vest.

Han Solo and Ysilvanti.

"There we go, you bastard…" I whispered to myself, flicking the safety off on my rifle.

Solo had his hand on his blaster, walking parallel to Ysilvanti, his face stern. But that was strange…He was in an Alliance base, there was no need to be alert like that. The target's eyes were darting about, picking every detail of his surroundings apart like a rat in a hole. _Come to think of it, Ysilvanti looks tense as well. Nobody knows he's here, or that I'm hunting him…_

"Great."

I dropped the rifle in the dirt, and jumped to my feet. I needed to get back to the _DarkRider_.

I'd been sold out.

Solo was on edge, he knew I was coming. And Ysilvanti was nervous because he knew I was watching him.

Price was now a dead man.

I pounded down the hillside, nearly toppling over and rolling. The _DarkRider_ was completely cloaked at the bottom, only identifiable by the large flat press marks in the grass from the landing skids.

I was less than thirty yards now. I tapped a button on my wrist bracelet, and the ship revealed itself. I tapped another, and the ramp lowered, and the engines hummed to life.

"Freeze!" A voice shouted from behind me.

The Alliance had learned I was here. Though they should have fired by now…

I plunged a hand into my jacket, drawing one of my heavy blasters. The sunlight caught the white wood handle and chrome finish brilliantly.

I fired twice over my shoulder, no doubt missing by a mile.

My feet hit the ramp, I was almost out of here.

Two blaster bolts struck the ground inches behind my feet, spraying my calves with molten bits of dirt. I grimaced, slapping the ramp controls behind me as I darted for the cockpit.

_I'll be lucky to make it out before I get vaped._

I dropped into the pilot's seat, almost punching the controls. Snatching the headset off its holding rack beside me, I began jamming any outgoing communications within a thousand yard radius. I could not have them alert a squadron of X-wings to follow me, not that they could bring the _DarkRider_ down anyways, but they could certainly track her. And for me, to be tracked was a death sentence.

A holographic monitor popped into view to my left, showing the exterior cameras. "Computer, scan the area for lifeforms."

A brief moment, maybe half a second passed, then a robotic female voice said, "There are three humans, one male, two females, advancing on your position. They wear the uniforms of the Galactic Federation of Free Alliances."

_Scouting party._

I slammed the accelerator lever back, the ship launching forward, the engines retaining their near silence all the while. A holodiagram of my ship was brought up on the floating monitor, and was showing small red circles around the perimeter of the hull. The text beneath read, _Hull receiving small arms fire. Shields 99%_.

_They're just wasting their time,_ I thought, the Navicomputer finishing the calculations for the jump to lightspeed, the information appearing on the monitor.

810561901045765010-1745

Destination: Corellia, port of Coronet.

ETA: 3 days, 1 hour, 16 minutes- Standard Galactic Time

One point(s) of rejump. Location(s): 66381104783B (Elrood Sector)

_Damn right, back to Corellia._

I watched through the cockpit windows as the distant forests vanished beneath me, eventually fading into the vast expanse of space as I exited the atmosphere. I shook my head, frustrated at the failure, my first one. Grunting, I pressed the lightspeed lever forward, and the ship hurtled into the white-blue starlines of hyperspace.

Onwards to Corellia.

Someone, either Kojuun or Price, had alerted the Alliance of my presence. There was no other reason for Solo and Ysilvanti's behavior, and the sudden appearance of a scouting crew just _happening_ to stumble across me and my invisible ship.

I swore violently, slamming a gloved fist on the console, the sound seeming unnaturally loud in the now silent cockpit.

_Kojuun will pay for this,_ I thought darkly, _some day, near or far, he will pay._

_..._

_..._

_..._

_ Thank you for reading. There may be more One-Shots following this character, or various characters, during this time space (30-35 ABY), a time in which no novels are written that I'm aware of. Please read, review (even if it's just a single word, that's fine!) follow, favorite. If you have any suggestions for future One-Shots you'd like me to write in this time frame, feel free to PM me and I'll see what I can do!_


	2. The Dantooine Job

_Chapter II- The dantooine Job_

_Aboard the Grey Shade, space above Dantooine._

_30.7 ABY_

By the Force, I was actually here.

I refrained from grinning, knowing that'd be a dead giveaway. After all, nobody smiles at a funeral.

I shuffled to my right, stepping out of the walkway and retreating behind a row of pilots in orange jumpsuits, each with a bowed head. Six men, all humans, were dressed similarly to me, in grey mechanic's outfits. We, falsely in my case, were the personally appointed mechanics of the recently deceased Prein Lafvad, a revered Galactic Alliance Captain from the insect-like peoples that dominate the planet Hevedara, a Mid Rim swampy world in the Elrood Sector. I, impersonating the "newly appointed" mechanic that oversaw the hyperdrive on his personal shuttle, was required to stand by for his funeral. It would appear, I noticed as New Republic troops walked past carrying a closed casket, that the Captain wished to be given a cremation. They intended to do this by launching his body into what I'd been told was his favorite sun over Dantooine.

I personally didn't care.

I was here for something else, something that the "great" captain had kept a secret from both his men and those above him: The Jewel of Dathomir.

I'd learned of the Jewel five years ago, while I was studying the history of the galaxy. The jewel, so I'd read from Imperial records, was a mythical Sith artifact that could, in legend, allow one to read into people's minds. After reading stories of similar objects or beliefs, I was brought to the Scepter of Ragnos, which was the prime tool of the Ragnos Crisis in 14 ABY. This scepter could store residual Force energy, and be channeled to people (in the case of the Reborn) or other items. The Jewel was the same, I believed, and would allow Force-empowered insight into the thoughts of anyone who made physical contact with the Jewel. If Imperial records were anything to go by, then the Jewel became lost on the planet Stracheblu, the same planet that Captain Lafvad made his naval debut. So, I spent a week diving into the old New Republic records that the Empire had stolen fifteen years ago, and was lucky enough to have stumbled across the de-briefing for the Assault on Stracheblu. Apparently, Lafvad had personally led a team of marines into a small temple occupied by monks, as to peacefully remove them without bloodshed. A freak explosion had torn the temple apart, and when New Republic forces tore the rubble away, they found Lafvad intact, and suddenly able to read the minds of the combat medics that oversaw his care. Since then, the humanoid had kept it hidden from everyone, friend and foe alike. The _only_ reason I knew it must have been in his possession, was because two months ago a young Jedi Knight by the name of Jaina Solo, made a random detour on her way back to their secret Academy, and had a conversation with Lafvad that ended in the Captain shouting at the Jedi, demanding she leave the _Grey Shade_. My only conclusion was that Solo had sensed some disturbance surrounding this Jewel, and had gone to investigate, handing me what I considered irrefutable proof of the Jewel's location.

And now the Captain was dead.

I had, of course, no hand in his death. I'd merely spent a long time _waiting_ for him to kick off so I could take his Jewel, and ransom it to the Jedi. I had a lot of credits, the last of my earnings in fact, wrapped up in this job. Between buying a black market Alliance mechanic uniform, falsifying my records to get on the Captain's team, purchasing the tools needed, and paying off the right people to find the location of the _Grey Shade_, I had nothing left. _I'll have it all back,_ I thought to myself as the new Captain said moving words about his predecessor from the podium, _If I can sell this jewel to the Jedi, under the threat of selling it to the Empire, I could get half a million credits for it. That'd be enough to do almost anything I wanted._

_But I have to get to it first._

For over an hour, I sat quietly alongside the other mechanics, trying to hide my nervousness at being in a room full of Alliance troops, having just tried to assassinate one of their members a few weeks previous. After another hour where several military leaders, including Wedge Antilles, said their farewells and a respective piece each, a hooded figure took the podium, one even I hadn't noticed. The man was of average height and weight, though I couldn't gain any other details, due to his shrouded face. From within the cloak, two gloved hands extended, removing the hood. The man had a mask that covered the lower portion of his face, from his eyes down. This too, he removed.

The man was Talos Secura, Jedi Knight and hero of the Galactic Alliance.

In the Empire, we knew him as "The Hunter" for the tactical genius he displayed while preying on the enemies of the Alliance, both rogue and Imperial alike. Though he was not as popular during the Yuuzhan Vong War as the Solo children had been, he'd earned his title during that time, as a Padawan. Secura, as the Imperial spies had informed us, was the son of a pair of legendary Clone Wars heroes, and Jedi Masters of the Old Republic. Aayla Secura and General Rahm Kota, so it seemed, had a secretive relationship that lasted a single year before their destruction during the Great Jedi Purge of 19BBY. Fearing that their newborn child would be hunted as well, they hid him on Dantooine in cryostasis, perfectly preserved until such a time when new Jedi would locate him. Just two months after giving birth, Secura was sent to Felucia, where she was killed. Kota had been killed some years later by Vader himself, and never got to see his son again. When Talos Secura had been found and, technically born, in 5 ABY, he spent ten fifteen years living with a middle class family that repaired speeders, until he was found by Jaden Korr on his mission to settle a border dispute. Since, he'd been as much a nightmare for the Imperial Remnant as Katarn or even Skywalker himself.

I immediately forced myself to clear my mind, lest he discover my ruse, focusing intently on the head of the man in front of me.

After a brief speech outlining Secura's personal respect for the Captain, and the respect of the Jedi Order, he stepped down, and the troops began moving his body towards the ray shielded hangar door behind them, which had opened. I could see clearly out into space, and the sun in the distance. One of the soldiers tapped a few icons on a keypad, then saluted, and stepped back from the plastoid casket. The hum of repulsorlifts filled the hangar, which was silent as a tomb. Sliding forward as if lifted by the Force, the casket rocketed out into space, heading directly towards the sun. Wedge Antilles took the podium, saying, "Rest in peace, Captain, and may the Force be with you. I'm ordering liberty for the next three days, for the entire ship. Celebrate the life of our brother."

Every soldier saluted in unison, and then began to file out of the hangar, silent all the while.

_Now is my chance._

...

...

I was in the special hangar now, posing as if I was fixing the hyperdrive aboard the _Diamond Setter,_ the personal shuttle of Captain Lafvad. The other mechanics had all gone to their quarters, or to the few transports that would take them planetside, where a few hundred troops had the brilliant idea of going "camping" on their weekend off. _If I was the leader here,_ I thought as I eased a makeshift bomb onto the fuel cell unit, _I'd never have left Dantooine undefended, even if there _were_ two dreadnoughts alongside the destroyer. Although, it would be nigh on impossible for the Empire to attack Dantooine without being detected beforehand._

I sighed, and slipped the tools back into my belt, satisfied that the ship would be destroyed once I flipped the switch on the detonator. Next, I made my way to the service terminal. Here, I would test the falsified records I arrived with, which permitted me to access restricted files regarding the maintenance reports for every single ship inside each hangar. Keying the service orders, I entered the code that I'd paid so much for. A screen appeared on the holomonitor.

Service Order: 00223

Security Code: 16714243698831900 - Accepted

Order Summary: Deactivate hangar doors to prevent boarding. Order stands until properly belayed.

_That'll keep the fighters from pursuing me,_ I thought with a grin, _now to the Captain's office._

I made my way down the length of the massive Mon Calamirian Star Destroyer, past the quarters, up the turbolift, and past the bridge access. The entire trip took over an hour, and by the end of my march, I was getting impatient. The mechanics could look over the shuttle at any minute, and I'd be in some serious trouble. As good as I was, there was no way I could fight my way out of the ship, against a few thousand Galactic Alliance marines.

The blast door to the Captain's office was to my left, and, making sure nobody was watching, I made my way down it, slowly removing the door slicing tool from my pocket. I knew there were cameras that were watching me, so I had to move fast. I drove the slicer into the door panel, and it opened a few seconds later. I stepped inside, locking the blast door behind me. I whirled around, eyes scanning for the safe that contained the Jewel.

Instead, they fell on someone else. The new Captain.

"Who the hell are you?" he barked, his hand resting on his blaster.

I had to act fast. My training overrode my fear. "Sir, I'm from Alliance Intelligence, under code three-two-two. We have reason to believe your life is in danger."

The Captain's demeanor changed from cautious, to puzzled. "Three-two-two? That's the code for the garbage launch-"

I drew a holdout blaster and fired before he could finish his sentence, my Stun bolt striking him in the chest. I swore violently, my plan never including leaving any witnesses. _Do it, you have no choice. He's seen your face._

I flicked the selector lever to "Fire", and pressed the barrel against the human man's forehead. This man was innocent...

No. The Empire's plan was to _make _me do things like this. I was free for a reason.

I switched the pistol back to Stun, and shot the man four more times, confident that the electrical shock would erase his memory of my face, and probably the entire past week. Moving over to the desk, I began searching for the safe I knew was there. I was so confident that the Jewel was in a safe, and aboard the _Grey Shade_, because when I was studying the Jewel while in the Empire, I learned that after Secura's arrival, Captain Lafvad ordered a Securi-Pro MK 1193. The safe he ordered, was essentially a box. This box had two feet of solid durosteel in every direction, and a door lock that was "impossible" to crack. Fortunately for Securi-Pro, I agreed with their lock mechanism being too difficult for me to crack. I never was very good at cracking safe codes. However, I _was_ always the best at improvising creatively. My fingers slid under the lip of the desk, striking an obviously hidden switch. I pressed it, praying it wasn't a panic button.

A tile on the floor lifted, and then slid aside, revealing a safe beneath.

"There we go," I said aloud, grinning.

I stepped over to the safe, staring at its impressive door lock. _Unfortunately for Securi-Pro, I agreed with them so much, that I went to extreme measures._ I reached inside my jumpsuit, retrieving the main "tool" that had cost so much. A lightsaber, taken off the corpse of a Reborn by Boba Fett himself. Fett had sold it to me for half its worth, probably hoping to get rid of it before the Alliance tracked it down. In reality, he was the one who made the smart decision. There was a rumor that Tavion Axmis had placed a tracking beacon in every Reborn's lightsaber, so she could find them when she needed to. After the Ragnos Crisis, the Jedi had set about to tracking them down and killing the Reborn who wielded them, as not a single one agreed to train under the Jedi. I, of course, had removed the device from mine.

Now, I was holding one upside down, slicing easily through the door panel. I had to be very, very precise, however, as to not strike the Jewel. I had practiced every day for three hours before this job, growing accustomed to the weightless blade and the difficulty in handling such a weapon. How the Jedi managed to fight like they did with lightsabers, I would never understand. The bright red blade eased through the last section of door, which fell into the safe, tipping on its side. Perfect to get a hold of. Setting the lightsaber back inside my jumpsuit, I reached inside, grabbing what appeared to be a holodisk on a thin cable. In truth, it was a magnetic grappling pad that I had originally planned to use in case I was forced to scale the turbolift shaft. But it would work just fine for removing the cherry red door from the safe. Carefully fastening the pad onto the door's face, I began to tug on the cable, slowly as to avoid swinging the door into my legs once it was free of the hidden compartment. The door hovered above the floor, surprisingly heavy, and I eased it back onto the tile a safe distance from where I was working. Hungrily, almost impatiently, I peered down into the safe.

The Jewel rested on a velvet sheet, its amethyst brilliance captivating my gaze. It had a hundred faceted edges, each angling into the primary face of the jewel, which was flat and bore a carved symbol I couldn't place. I plunged my hand into the safe, seizing the Jewel of Dathomir.

The second my hand made contact with the gem, a rush of pure...energy surged through my palm, like icy water through my veins. I immediately could sense the minds of the pilots in the corridor below the office, the frustration of General Antilles in a nearby room, and one mind so powerful, it recoiled at my contact-

Jedi Knight Talos Secura.

I removed my hand from the Jewel, the strange energy fading instantly. It had felt as if I could _feel_ the world around me, _understand_ it. And I'd also alerted the Jedi of my presence. Removing my boot, I tugged my sock off, and shoved the Jewel inside it. The brief moment of contact with the gem, I noticed that the Jedi was on his way, rapidly approaching.

I needed a plan. My escape route was back out the same door, down the turbolift, then into the main hangar, where I was to steal the shuttle, fly into space, board my own ship, then blow the charges in the shuttle to cover my tracks. _That's sure as hell not working now, not with a Jedi pounding towards my door._

I thought of being cut down by a lightsaber was not very appealing.

_Lightsabers...That's it!_

I darted to the captain's computer terminal, the translucent hologram flaring to life. I keyed the blueprints for the ship, using my mechanic's code. Panning over to the office I was currently in, I scrolled down. Directly below me, was the corridor for the escape pods.

Perfect.

I peeled the mechanic's jumpsuit off, revealing my standard attire: Flight jacket, standard black pants, T-shirt, concealed carry harness for my Imperial E-12 blaster pistol. On both thighs, I strapped on my hand crafted heavy blaster revolvers, preparing for a fight I hoped to avoid. I seized the lightsaber from the jumpsuit, flaring the weightless gyro blade into existence. Its signature hum filled the room.

"Alright, let's do this."

...

...

_Talos Secura._

I had sensed the disturbance in the Force.

It was slight, like a ripple on the surface of a puddle, but still noticeable. The only conclusion I had, was that another Force user was on board. Yet, I was the only one here that I was aware of. The ripple had come from the Captain's quarters, and my first thought was of a Reborn assassin. So I'd set off in that direction, both a lightsaber in each hand. The blade of the weapon in my right hand shone the brilliant green-white that Master Luke's did, while the blade in my left was a deep blue, as Katarn's weapon was. This I had done out of respect for my teachers, my only parent figures I had known for the last decade.

I rounded the corner, using the Force to push a pilot out of my way as to not cut him in two by my lightsaber. Without answering his questions, I charged towards the door at the end of the hall, the door to where the Reborn was. I had not sensed the Captain there, yet the assassin may have been laying in wait, scanning the ship for the captain's mind-

_No,_ I thought to myself, the words coming effortlessly from the Force, _Not an assassin...a thief! A thief who made contact with the Jewel of Dathomir. If this thief manages to get away with it..._

I allowed my connection to the world around me to flow through my legs, pushing me faster than possible. When I was ten yards from the door, I hurled my blue lightsaber at the door, cutting through the wall and the controls on both sides. The door sprang open, and I darted in, rolling to avoid blaster fire I was positive would be coming my way.

I was right. I felt, rather than saw, a male figure firing heavy bolts in my direction, actually singeing my hood. At the speed I'd moved at, aided by the Force, no common thief should have been able to hit me...

I rolled to a kneeling position, deflecting a barrage of shots with my lightsaber, each striking the blade with such force that the weapon rocked in my hands, threatening to break free of my grip. Noticing the unconscious body of the new captain, I pointed three fingers at the desk behind him, hurling it across the room at the thief. The man jumped up and stamped his feet on the floor, which gave way in a perfect square, which he fell through. Before the man, now identified as a Chiss male of larger build, dropped from view, he fired two bolts from a pair of heavy blaster pistols. The first I deflected back at him, striking his shoulder. The second struck me just above my right knee, reducing a fist sized chunk of flesh into a smoldering hole that bored clean through. I collapsed, using the Force to bring my second lightsaber into my hands. I scrambled to a knee, and pressed the bottom of each hilt together, twisting them so they locked into one double-sided lightsaber, as the famous Darth Maul had used.

Limping over to the hole in the ground, I fell through, intent on stopping this thief.

Or die trying.

...

...

_Tonak Enos_

I fell into the corridor, piling up into a heap.

The damned Jedi was good, better than any I'd seen in Imperial holotapes. Certainly better than any of the Reborn I'd been forced to battle. I'd never seen such _speed_...

I forced myself to my feet, darting to the escape pod less than a few yards away. I swore to myself, angry for the Jedi's interference. The whole plan had been perfect. Nobody had seen my face, not even the cameras. And if they had, the footage would only reveal a blurred and distorted figure, an effect of the Praetorian program. I'd managed to not kill anyone, and to make it out safe. And then this Jedi shows up.

_At least you landed a shot, a solid one too._

I tumbled into the escape pod, sealing the door behind me. I typed in the coordinates for where the _DarkRider_ was hidden, a few miles away from the _Grey Shade_. Reaching into my jacket pocket, I pulled out the thin cylindrical detonator, and pressed the button.

...

...

_Wedge Antilles_

I made my way into the Special Vehicles Hangar, hoping to check in on the repairs to my own X-Wing.

Beside me, stood the ship's navigation officer, Quen Petral, a Trandoshan woman from Tyreene. "Apparently the newer ships use the same Navicomputer codes as the older Dreadnoughts."

I nodded, interested in the conversation. "Well, that should provide some piece of familiarity for the astromech droids when they repair the-"

A deafening, cannon like blast rocked the door that I had my hand on, mere seconds from opening. The shockwave shattered the transparisteel windows that allowed sight into the hangar, throwing me and Quen against the far wall. My head bounced viciously against the floor as I landed, and my vision faded to black.

...

...

_Tonak Enos_

I'd made it out, free and clear.

The _DarkRider_ silently jumped to lightspeed, the blue-white starlines of hyperspace wrapping around the canopy. I'd gotten the Jewel of Dathomir, a near priceless artifact of Sith history, prevented the Alliance X-Wings from pursuing me, held my own in a fight with a powerful Jedi Knight, and done it all without being caught or identified. I had no worry in my mind that the Jedi would be able to describe my other than "a big Chiss". I'd pulled off the heist I'd been considering for five years.

I rose from the pilot's seat, making my way to my quarters. As I threw myself down on the bed, I winced at the pain in my shoulder, my hand instinctively reaching up to prod the Bacta wrap. "Damn Jedi," I hissed, "Always stirring up trouble."

I closed my eyes, confident that I'd be rich enough soon to proceed with my vengeance against Price and Kojuun for betraying me, along with whatever I wanted to do.

_Maybe I'll get into the speeder racing game. I could buy one, outfit it, and then make a fortune off it. _I felt sleep tugging at me, but my mind was still racing.

_Three million,_ I tossed the number around in my head, _that's what it'll cost to buy my own island on Ariannas, and live in peace with every luxury I could imagine. Once I sell this Jewel to the Jedi, I'll be one step closer to that dream._

My ideas faded, drifting into sleep. Though through the haze of jumbled thoughts, one stood out bright and clear.

_I am starting to make a life for myself._

...

...


	3. Ransom

_Ransom_

_Coruscant, Wild Bantha Casino, Sector 23_

_30.8 ABY_

Everything was playing out according to plan.

Out of money, I'd stolen two protocol droids from a warehouse when I arrived on Coruscant, wiping their memories. Next, I'd sent out the message to the Jedi that I had the Jewel, and that for a dead drop payment of six-hundred thousand credits, it could be theirs. So, I'd waited for six days, and now was the time for action.

I'd seen the Jedi, a Twi'Lek with orange skin, make his way into the same casino I'd sent the message from, disguised as a pilot. Anyone with the proper training, I'd thought, could spot a Jedi. They moved differently.

Jedi Knight Zesha Lothar was one of the New Jedi Order's healers, and by his accomplishments during the Yuuzhan Vong War, I'd consider him a good one. Along with him, there was also his Padawan, a young Anzatian boy, who was posing as if he were part of a too-well behaved group of students on tour of the casino. I'd left under his nose, not being recognized, and then placed the jewel inside the chest plate of the first protocol droid. Since, I'd sent the droid into the casino, where it placed a communicator on the Jedi's table, walked out, and waited. The second was waiting as ordered a few blocks away. I then dialed up the Jedi. First, the alien male had been hesitant to answer, then he reluctantly sighed and picked up the mic.

"You must be the Blue Fox," he'd said, calm and friendly as if we were discussing weather, "You've got quite the reputation."

"Cut the crap," I spat, leaning over the edge of a casino roof a quarter mile down the street, Tenloss Disruptor sighted in on the droid who would pick up my cash, "Head outside, pay the protocol droid with the red stripe on his arm the full amount, six hundred thousand in hard currency. The droid will walk away, you will _not_ follow him. You will then remove your lightsaber from your belt," I paused, remembering my teachings of the Jedi, "I understand that your weapon has sentimental value. This, I understand, and thus I will not ask you to throw it away. You will give it to your Padawan learner, who will then go back inside the casino. A second droid will then approach you, with a blue stripe on his arm, and you will receive your Jewel. Any deviation from this plan will result in death, lots of unnecessary death. Are we clear?"

The Jedi didn't answer. Truthfully, I had no desire to kill innocent people. However, I had installed two small explosive charges on the sides of two speeders in a less populated area around the right side of the casino, just in case.

I heard a sigh break the silence, as if the Jedi hadn't already planned for this and wasn't just searching for a loophole, "Alright, you have a deal, Mr. Fox. I'm heading outside now."

I tightened my grip on the rifle.

There was no chance in hell that I was going to land a solid shot on the Jedi from this distance, not one that he wouldn't dodge or deflect, but it was worth the risk. Jedi and Sith were not the most elite of the elite in the galaxy for no reason, and I refused to treat this exchange lightly. As the Praetorian Program had taught me, "Treat every scenario like your last scenario". It was good advice, and I stuck to it. I was about to conduct business with the New Jedi Order, arguably the most powerful faction in the galaxy today. The Empire, controlling about a quarter of the galaxy, pretended that they'd soon rebound and crush the Alliance, and that the Jedi were nothing. They were wrong. The Jedi were the best, no doubt. They had a long, powerful, proud history as being the best diplomats, warriors, and scholars that the galaxy had ever seen, and I was not about to take them lightly. Luke Skywalker had done an incredible job in teaching the newest Jedi in the ways of the Force, and where he could not instruct them, he taught himself, and then passed his knowledge onto them.

He was an admirable man, no doubt.

Motion through my scope brought my attention back to the job at hand.

The Jedi Knight was standing by the first droid, holding a satchel in one hand, his lightsaber in the other. I admired it for a moment, noticing that it was far nicer than the one I owned, and slightly jealous at the same time. For the qualified personnel within the Galactic Alliance, those who met the top security clearance, could get a lightsaber for about three grand. Expensive, but not impossible. The difficulty came into play with the fact that almost nobody other than the Jedi met that level of clearance. And to be caught buying or selling one without that permission was a life sentence in prison. So, naturally, to buy one black market would run you about thirty thousand credits. Boba Fett had been desperate to get rid of the one he had, and sold it to me for sixteen thousand. I, upon receiving it, had used it to steal the Jewel, and then removed the tracking device from the pommel, which had already been disabled.

The Twi'lek handed his weapon to the Padawan, who then bolted back inside. Upon seeing the first droid, the Jedi's eyes darted from side to side, scanning for wherever I might be. Then, he closed them, clearly reaching in with the Force to find me. I keyed the mic, "Don't do that, Jedi, or I blow a speeder to smithereens right on the main street."

The Jedi sighed, and opened his eyes, "It sounds like you're not being very friendly. Very well," he placed the satchel at the protocol droid's feet. The droid touched the bag with the density scanner I'd welded onto his wrist, and then nodded, obviously content that there was hard currency chips in there. _The Jedi gave up too easy..._

I tapped an icon on my datapad, and the droid threw the bag back at the Jedi's feet, who appeared surprised.

"You're good, Jedi," I said, "But these are tracked chips. They're just a fraction too light to be actual chips. I want the real money," I sighed, wishing that the damn Jedi had made this easy, "I do my job and all that it entails. I understand this places us at opposites now, but later we very may well be on the same team. I have respect for the Jedi, and the Sith, and refuse to kill either unless I have to. Only a select few others in the entire galaxy can say they're truly safe from my skills. And most of all, I try to stay neutral between factions. So why is it so hard to just pay me for my work?"

The Jedi smiled, "You don't kill Jedi? You attacked Secura, did you not?"

"No," I replied, keeping calm, "He attacked me, and paid for it. I stunned the captain, but I didn't kill him. I almost killed Wedge Antilles, so I hear, but he survived, he's a strong man."

The Jedi nodded to himself, and the Padawan walked back out onto the casino's front steps, handing him a second satchel. "A mercenary with a conscience? How rare."

"I'm one of a kind," I grinned to myself despite the seriousness of the situation, "Pay me, now. Or I break my word and kill a lot of people who just want to enjoy their gambling."

The Jedi waved a hand, setting the satchel at the droid's feet again, "We don't need any of that."

The droid scanned the bag, twice this time. I read the printout on my datapad, satisfied that they were legit, and then ordered my droid to march off into the crowd, towards the area where I would collect. After scanning the area, I was satisfied that the Alliance had been sensible enough to send Lothar alone on this mission, and not have the usual obvious security guys blending in. I ordered the second droid to march in, and the Jedi stared at him.

"Where's this Jewel?" he asked over the mic.

I didn't answer, instead taking aim on the droid's head. I fired, the white-phosphorous bolt striking home. The droid collapsed, his chest plate swinging open. The Jedi snatched the Jewel and stashed it in his flight suit. The Padawan darted out into the crowd of now panicked gamblers, and handed his mentor's weapon to him, both blue lightsabers flaring into existence.

I checked my datapad, the first protocol droid's scanners showing nobody near him within a hundred yards as he made his way to the _DarkRider_. Content, I thumbed the detonator on the speeders, the thunderous blasts echoing through the streets, startling drivers on the airways. The Jedi flinched, preparing to engage. "Thank you for your business, Jedi Knight Zesha Lothar, I wish the best for you and your Padawan, Osirius Vann."

I placed a timed charge on my equipment, and made my way back to my ship.

...

...

_Sal Sagev, Devenada._

_30.8 ABY._

Sal Sagev, on the resort planet of Devenada.

Some called this Casino city "Sin City", but I found it to my liking.

In the two weeks since Coruscant, since I'd made a fortune, I'd banked all but a few thousand credits, which I used to buy my three day retreat. I'd spent the first two days gambling, drinking, and making good use of the female companionship offered here at the casinos. Today, I just wanted to relax. I had a job I planned on taking, a security job offered by a middle class shipping company on an independent system in the Corellian Sector. It seemed easy enough, and for ten thousand credits, a massive sum of money, I had but to escort the planet's governor for a weekend, from place to place. Easy enough.

I lowered myself into a heated pool, roughly twenty feet in either direction. The pool was on the balcony-porch of my suite, overlooking lush rolling fields of wild wheat, and a clear lake in the distance. I was completely relaxed. Though, despite my relaxation, I still kept my E-12 pistol under my towel.

A good idea.

After about an hour, I dozed off, preparing to spend the entire morning as such. It was then that I heard the metallic boots thud loudly on the stone balcony, causing me to leap over to my towel, preparing to waste whoever was intruding. A blaster bolt struck the towel inches from my hand, vaping it.

"Don't do that," the dark voice barked, "You'll only make me have to kill you."

I slowly turned towards the voice, recognizing it instantly.

Standing on the site of my now interrupted hot tub soak, was Boba Fett, garbed in his Madalorian armor. He holstered his pistol at his side, and stood facing me, as if waiting for a response. I opened my mouth to speak, but he cut me off abruptly.

"I chose you," he started, "Don't forget that."

I sighed, now sure he wasn't here to assassinate me, "For what, exactly? I'm on leave, in case you can't see under that helmet."

Fett stepped closer, probably wanting nothing more than to cave my head in. "I don't like you, at all. I think you're arrogant, and reckless. However," he held up a gloved hand, "You're good...better than almost any other. I considered another, should you decline, though he's not as good. Your work getting the Jewel of Dathomir was impressive, and my employer is equally impressed. You've had smaller, less important jobs, but you've performed them with surgical precision, never a loose end. We like that."

It was pointless asking who his employer was, or how he knew all that, so I remained silent.

"Fortunately for you," Fett continued, "You've got some protection. Cameras can't see you, you're all static. You don't show up on a life form scanner, you have no fingerprints, no DNA to recognize. You're invisible, one hundred percent. That's technically impossible."

"I'm full of surprises."

Fett snorted. "I bet," he leaned against the doorway leading back into my suite, "I've been offered a job, a nasty one. I don't want it, you won't either. It's a suicide mission, but the pay is too high for me to ignore. It involves a lot of shooting, a guarantee that you'll be marked up from head to toe, and a high chance you'll be dragged into a series of catacombs and eaten alive in the dark," He nodded at me, "You in?"

I allowed a wry smile, "You answer three questions first, and we'll talk. First, which side are we working for?"

"Imperials."

I nodded, "Payout?"

"A total of a hundred thousand, which I'll split sixty-forty-"

"Fifty-fifty, or find someone else."

Fett clenched a fist, "Fine, half it is. In Standard credits."

I nodded again, content, "And what type of job is this?"

Fett shrugged, as if he were unsure, "I would call it security. But it's more of a bug hunt."

I scowled. I loathed the idea of protecting someone, or a group, against some backwater bug species, it was the worst kind of work. Still...a hundred thousand was a lot to pay for such a job.

"I'm in, give me the details."

Fett turned and walked into the suite, where I followed.

...

...

Twenty minutes later, I was dressed in my full gear, pulling my flight jacket over my concealed pistol. I decided to bring along my assault rifle, just in case this got serious. Fett was standing by the table in the dining room.

When I walked in, he placed a holoplayer on the table, which projected a 3D image of a base, with a series of catacombs beneath it.

"This is on Yukantar, just outside the Outer Rim, in Imperial Space. This base is a listening post, and apparently the stormtroopers there have been going missing. A week ago, the technicians discovered that they had an arachnite infestation."

I let out a low whistle, now seeing why someone like Boba Fett brought backup. Arachnites were your common spider, essentially, except that they were four to six feet tall on average. They had no home planet that anyone was aware of, though they popped up in various locations, forming hives and driving entire cities to extinction.

"We've been hired to go in and wipe them out. The only way to do that is to travel down into the center of the hive, and plant seismic charges. That'll ensure that the breeders don't make it to the surface. Once that's completed, we pack up and leave. This particular hive isn't that large, but the spiders inside have already cost the Empire a great deal," Boba Fett snatched his player off the table, "I'm leaving today, to meet with the Imperials a day before you. I've worked with them before, and they won't fire on me. You, they just might. I'll clear your landing. Be there in a week."

I nodded, suddenly nervous.

_Nobody other than the Emperor or Lord Vader knew of our secret training base, and we started the Praetorian Program after they died. The only ones who could ever identify me or the _DarkRider_ were long dead..._

But still, the idea of being detected loomed like a shadow over everything I'd built.

_You need this money. Take the damn job._

I sighed, and then nodded, extending a hand. Boba stared at it through the opaque visor of his helmet, and then strode back out onto the balcony, taking off with his jetpack.

I shrugged, and sat down at the table and began to clean and inspect my gear.

"That guy's a tool."

...

...

_Aboard the DarkRider, Space over Yukantar_

_30.8 ABY_

_Six Standard Days Later_

The trip was not as long as I thought it would have been, the advanced hyperdrive carting me across the galaxy a day faster than any normal ship might have been capable of. I'd spent the day cloaked in orbit, the ship's technology hiding my presence one hundred percent. I'd even watch Fett come out of hyperspace aboard his ship, the _Slave II_.

I'd run the planet's history through the computer, learning that on Yukantar, an agricultural planet dedicated mostly to industrialized farming, the air was slightly thinner than the Galactic Standard of Living, but my being a Chiss, I shouldn't be affected. The gravity was the same as Standard, but the planet was well known for wind storms and violent pounding rain. The landscape was primarily rocky, craggy and inhospitable. The farms were located in the sparse valleys, where valuably rich soil provided pristine crops. The base in question was on the edge of one such valley, an area that saw almost daily rainfall in torrential downpours that flooded some of the catacomb tunnels and created stagnant pools in the caves, where a type of mushroom grew, one that was considered a delicacy on many worlds.

I checked my chrono, seeing it was time to land.

Removing the cloak, I plunged the stealth freighter into the atmosphere, towards the landing bay. As expected, a transmission broke over the comm in the cockpit.

"Unidentified freighter, transmit clearance codes now or be shot down. You are invading Imperial territory."

I inserted the datacard containing the codes Fett had beamed up to me that morning, "Transmitting codes now, Control."

After a brief hesitation, the voice returned, emotionless, "You're cleared for landing, Mr. Fox. Please land at the given coordinates."

I suppressed a grin. Fett had come through with those codes.

I eased the _DarkRider_ down beside the _Slave II_, taking note of the military transport ship that was docked a few hundred yards away from a duracrete bunker, and the ship was flanked by at least thirty stormtroopers. Making my way to the main hold, my lounge, I slung my assault blaster (a Galactic Alliance Army standard issue) over my back, and holstered my matching revolvers. This time, instead of a flight jacket, I wore my armor, a project I'd been working on since the week before the Galactic Alliance stormed across Jekato and destroyed the Praetorian base. The armor was stolen Shadowtrooper armor adorned with blue tiger stripes, fitted with thigh and back holsters, and a plastoid mask, to cover the lower half of my face. I checked my revolver power cells, and that each pistol had a grenade in its sleek second under barrel. I belted on four thermal detonators and spare power packs for my weapons. Content I was ready, I lowered the ramp and stepped into the cool, moist air.

Ten yards away, Boba Fett stood in front of his ship, armored and helmed as usual.

I kept my cool, my hands in plain view so Fett wouldn't be nervous.

"You're three minutes early," he said, his dark voice carrying across the landing pad despite the wind.

I shrugged, "Your chrono is off."

I covered the distance between us, acknowledging him with a nod. Fett tipped his head, examining my armor. "Smooth," he said with an appreciative nod, then started off towards the group of Imperials, "Don't make any stupid moves, you're here representing me."

I stopped abruptly, glaring at Fett. "Listen, I can handle the Empire as good as anyone. Don't treat me like a child."

Fett didn't even slow down. "Don't give me a reason to."

I snorted, and caught back up with him, wishing I could just shoot him and be done with it. The pair of us stopped again, this time in front of thirty stormtroopers in their shining gloss armor. One trooper, with a Major's ensignia on his armband, stepped forward, holding his E-11 across his chest. He extended a hand, which I shook though Fett did not.

"Boba Fett, Blue Fox," he nodded to each of us in return, and removed his helmet. He was human, looking to be about my age. He had sandy blonde hair, cold grey eyes, and a thin scar on the right side of his jaw that ran from his ear to his chin. "We've been expecting you. I'm Major Aidan Valhalla, Imperial three-twenty-second division, special forces. We cleared the base already, and I'm afraid it's not good. Looks like the arachnites came up through the floor, wiped everyone out. Follow us, we'll get this thing under way."

The Major barked an order at the troopers, who spun right-face and began marching in unison, without a single flaw in their appearance. The Major joined Fett and I at the rear of the column, his helmet still under one arm. "We don't usually work with mercenaries," he sighed, clearly wishing he didn't have to give this speech, "But we know that you, Fett, have experience with arachnites. We asked him to bring along a second, as backup, and he found you, Fox. We, my unit and I, mostly have field experience against the Rebels, not with this sort of thing."

I nodded, uneasy about being so close to the Empire, "I've never gone up against arachnites in particular, but I've been down in the spice mines of Kessel, and there are energy spiders there the size of a Bantha. They're mostly defensive, unlike these, but they get all jacked up on glitterstim and they become damn near impossible to kill."

The Major nodded gravely, "I know what kind of spiders you're talking about. You'll have valuable input on this one, then."

Fett remained silent and, given he had more experience as a mercenary, I followed suit.

The stormtroopers entered the base first, breaking off into tactical patterns to clear the rooms. I brought my rifle to bear, and followed the Major, Fett behind me doing likewise. I dropped to a knee beside a wall, scanning every square inch of what looked like a main lobby. Silvery-white webs coated the walls and ceiling, and the floor was littered with pools of dark, coagulated blood. A hole had been blasted into the stone floor directly in the center of the room, and was roughly six feet wide in all directions. Scrapes and gouges marked where the spiders had scurried out of the opening. There were no bodies, something I took note of. _The arachnites must have taken them back as food_, I thought grimly, determined to avoid such a fate. The Major lowered his E-11, and removed his helmet again (having donned it before entering). At the far end of the room, a mass of hair, legs, and pincers was flipped over on its back, charred blast points freckling its torso. I barely stopped my jaw from dropping.

The spider's legs were six feet long each, and the body must've been easily the size of an oil drum.

Beside me, I heard Fett snort. "They're bigger than you described."

The Major shrugged, "This is a small one."

Fett swore quietly, then said to me in an undertone, "This is why you try to avoid the Empire."

...

...

...

Check me out under the same name on the sister website, FictionPress!


	4. Imperial Matters

_Imperial Matters_

_Tunnels Beneath Imperial Listening Post 2237-B, Yukantar_

_30.8 ABY_

I held my assault blaster in my hands, wishing I were anywhere else.

The tunnel was easily thirty feet tall and equally as wide, and perfectly circular, as if carved by prestine tools. This, I knew, was one of the greatest mysteries surrounding Arachnites: how they constructed their hives so brilliantly. Beside me, Major Valhalla handed me a pair of night vision optics, which I gratefully donned. The impenetrable darkness of the Arachnite tunnel became suddenly illuminated in black and white. I could see the thirty stormtroopers marching in three neat rows, blasters poised and scanning the ceiling for any sign of the multilegged foe. Boba Fett was in front, his own customized E-11 ready for action. The Major hadn't said much since we climbed down into the abyss, other than barking instructions to the troopers to install cables so we could climb out. The stormtroopers themselves were as stone, well trained. We were guided by a digital layout carried on the Major's datapad. As of right now, we had but to follow this tunnel for another thousand yards or so, then scale down into the second level, where Fett said the weaker, smaller spiders would be gathering food for the larger ones farther below. Apparently, according to his knowledge, the farther down we went, the bigger and more powerful the Arachnites were, to better defend the nest where the breeders and the queen were. This information was not comforting, as the group plowed onwards to certain death.

I checked the power pack in my rifle for the third time, trying to distract myself from the impending conflict. Why exactly the Empire paid us fifty grand each to do this job with the help of thirty battle hardened troopers was unclear, though the fact that if they believed it was worth it to spend such a dramatic amount of credits to hire two mercenaries alongside the division already tasked with removing the Arachnites told me that they didn't expect this to be easy. And if the Empire didn't expect it to be easy, then it wasn't going to be.

"We're coming up on the level two access tunnel, mark two hundred yards," Valhalla said quietly.

I noticed the stormtroopers focus their weapons above them, a few training their weapons in front, towards the access hole. _They seem like they've got some tunnel clearing experience,_ I thought, _which is weird considering they hired Fett to guide them through._

Fett held up a fist, and the stormtroopers held position. I gripped my rifle with pale knuckles. Fett peered down into the hole, then unclipped a glowrod from his belt, and tossed it down. The green-white light was merely a flash of white in my night vision, and disappeared down the long vertical tunnel, bouncing loudly off the sides. Fett motioned for the group to step back a dozen yards, and we did. "Five men focus behind us, five on the ceiling, and the rest on this hole. Fox, take over the rear guard. Major, watch above."

"Above? Behind? What the hell did you do, Fett?" Valhalla demanded, his E-11 gripped so tight I thought he'd break it.

Fett snorted. "You're in the lion's den, Major. You think we walked in here without being followed? And I just told most of the second level where we are."

Valhalla started towards him, as if he was about to strike the Mandolorian, but thought better of it. "By the Force...you just killed us all."

Fett marched over and grabbed the Imperial by the chestplate, giving him a shove. "Get your mind straight, Imperial. Your men need a leader. If you want to take out an Arach nest by just walking the tunnels killing everything in sight, be my guest, I'll be there at your funeral. This is how it's done: one level at a time. We fight them as they come in through this hole, their main way up. There is a rear tunnel, which Fox is watching, and one father down, they're always like that. Man your damn position."

The Major shook his head, but did as he was told.

I took aim on the rear of us, my night vision only allowing me about fifty yards of sight before the light vanished into silent darkness. For a long, terrifying moment, the tunnel was silent, minus the sound of my own breathing. Through my mask, it was silent to the others, but inside my head it was thunderously loud.

A three round burst of blaster fire shattered the silence, followed by a hiss, like a Coruscanti housecat being stepped on. A few seconds later, a distant muffled crunch sounded from the bottom of the hole.

"One reported kill, Major," one of the stormtroopers said, "That damned thing was huge-"

The man's scream tore his sentence short. I whirled around to see him being pulled down into the cavernous opening by a swarm of hairy legs. The others, Fett included, opened up on the hole, where six of the beasts had already emerged. I returned my attention to my assigned area, trusting Fett's skills to keep me from being mauled to death from behind. Three spiders were heading my way, two on the walls, and one on the floor. I lined the ironsights up on the nearest, and folded it up with a three round burst. The troopers around me fell the other two, only to have them be replaced by six more.

_That explains how they took the entire base,_ I thought grimly, dropping two more, _they're so many you can't kill them fast enough._

I held the trigger down, killing four more. My stormtrooper team kept pace, yet was not as accurate. As a result, one of the speeder-sized arachnids was a mere twenty feet from us when I emptied the last of my power pack into its face and pincers. The creature hissed, rolling over on its back and curling its legs in. I ejected the pack, slapping in a fresh one. A dozen or so more headed my way, and I did my best to keep them from getting too close. The Imperials were very accurate in their own right, but my own training was far superior. I killed two to their one, gaining confidence as I did so. I wasted nine more, dropping into a tactical crouch and advancing. I moved and fired with effortless grace, putting a few yards between me and the others. Behind me, I heard Fett shout something.

I glanced upwards, checking to make sure one of them didn't slip past.

The massive spider dropped from the ceiling and crashed into me before I could raise my blaster. Its legs stomped me down, pinning my hands away from my weapons. I stared up into the eight black eyes, above the polished pincers.

Its face decimated behind a full-auto blizzard of red bolts, reducing the torso to a smoldering heap.

I scrambled to my feet, snatching my rifle from where it had fallen. Boba Fett stood in front of me, grey-blue blood splattered across his armor and helmet.

"That soldier boy trash doesn't work down here, Fox. As good as you are, you know nothing about how these things work. They _waited_ for you to break off, they could tell you were the best. Stay close, stay alert, and stay calm. That's how you survive."

I glared at him, wanting nothing more than to shoot him.

Fett grabbed a dead stormtrooper's body, rolling it down the hole in the tunnel. A smear of blood followed the body over the edge.

"What the hell are you doing?" the Major asked furiously, "That's a good man you're feeding to those things."

I looked around, counting only twenty-six. "Those things," Fett replied emotionlessly, "Know we're here for sure, now."

Valhalla threw his hands up, "So why throw him down?"

"So we can follow his blood trail to the nest," I replied, seeing the sick necessity of the act.

Fett nodded, reloading his weapon. "You boys better strap up, it's about to get a lot worse. We cleared the first level, but those are the weaker ones. The ones on level two will be stronger, faster, smarter. And it only gets worse."

I was positive that only the intense, brutal training stormtroopers undertook from the beginning prevented the Major and his men from fleeing back to the surface, boarding their ship, and going AWOL on some backwater planet in the Outer Rim. I, for one, wanted the money, the glory, and the experience. I did not, however, want to die in these forsaken catacombs underneath the pincers of a spider bigger than my car.

_It's not getting any easier, might as well do what you were paid to do. Think about that island on Ariannas._

Fifty grand would put me closer to my goal, for sure.

I checked the shot count on the small display beside the underslung power pack, which read: 110. I had plenty of ammo, so long as I chose my shots more carefully. My worry was that the stormtroopers would not survive the mission, leaving Fett and I with nobody to cover our backs, and no reliable source to inform the Empire that we'd done the job. That meant we didn't get paid.

"Fox," Fett snapped, "Give me your grenades."

He held a hand out, his face pointed towards the access hole. I unbelted them, trusting his leadership. He took them and then accepted a roll of metal tape from one of the troopers, wrapping them together along with a dozen more. He took the bundle and placed it on the inner wall of the hole, about a foot down from the edge.

"To blow them up if they're chasing us on our way out, right?" Major Valhalla asked.

Fett pulled himself back up, retrieving his rifle from the ground.

"No," I replied quickly, trying to show Fett that I wasn't useless, "These are sandstone tunnels, which means they're fragile. Arachnites are light, so they don't cave their tunnels in, but they're not especially strong diggers. The charge is there to collapse the tunnel on our way out."

The Major hesitated, "Won't the charges down in the main chamber do that?"

I looked at Fett. He dipped his helmet as if to say, _Go on._

"For the lower tunnels, yes. But Arachnites are a matriarchal society, they'll just elect a new queen within themselves. Sort of how the wolves do on Endor, just in a larger pack. The chosen spider will then be fed the energy of its inferiors until it has reached such a massive size, its authority cannot be denied. That means that they would just rebuild, the ones not currently in the lower chamber. We have to seal off this main tunnel, so we know they can't reach the surface."

I looked back at Fett, hoping my tactical abilities had been displayed properly. He nodded slightly, almost unnoticeable, then nodded again for the Imperials to see.

"What about the two other tunnels, the ones behind us and farther down, the two you mentioned?" he pointed at Fett with his elbow.

"No," Fett replied, "They closed them off before we got here. Must've seen us enter, and are only leaving the main tunnels open. That's why there was only a few dozen on Fox's side."

Valhalla scoffed, the noise mechanical through his helmet. "And how the hell do you know that?"

Boba Fett shoved the major with one hand, staggering him back. "You hired me to do this job for your echo of a military you call your Empire. I agreed. I'm the expert, if you don't want my advice, go find someone else. If you want to stay alive long enough to tell your superiors what happened, shut up and hook your cables to the top of this hole. Half go down with me, Fox takes the other half once we say it's clear. Do you understand, Major?"

Valhalla's face was undeadable underneath his helmet, but I was positive he was red faced and insulted. For a long while, neither spoke, both emotionless masks mere inches from each other.

"Yeah," Valhalla replied, "Move out, men," he listed off fifteen names, "You men follow the bounty hunter down to the second level. We'll rendezvous with you there once it's cleared."

"Yes sir!" the soldiers exclaimed in unison.

Fett snorted, then hooked his cable into a peg he drilled into the sandstone, rappelling over the edge a whole five seconds before the Imperials. I waited at the top with Valhalla and his men, my mind's assessment of the situation observing a flaw in the plan.

I pressed two fingers to the side of my head, where my earpiece was hidden. "Fett, if these arachnites come back from the surface and rout us from behind, we'll be dead. We need to leave a few men here."

After a few seconds, Fett's response was curt and short. "Leave three men."

"Major," I said, the darkness of my voice startling him, "Leave three men here to make sure no surface scouts come back behind us to deliver food. Make sure they're good, or we'll pay for it later."

Valhalla nodded, then pointed to three troopers in turn. "Kilpon, Ymaec, and Jungstitch. You three stay here, keep guard. If anything goes down, click the comm and I'll know you guys went down. We'll keep the channel clear for you."

They saluted, and set up a triangular position at the side of the opening closest to our original entry point.

"We're at the bottom, LZ is clear." Fett said into my ear.

I shouldered my rifle, "Fett and his team are clear," I hooked my belt onto the same cable the Mandolorian had used, "Hook up, Major. I'll go first, you follow me down."

Valhalla nodded, then barked orders at his men, who latched onto the cables with practiced movements. Again, I noticed a strange sense of experience in the men, as if they'd done this type of job before. I withheld my comments, bouncing down the wall like a tree frog, my eyes peeled for arachnites. The tunnel must've been a hundred yards down, and perfectly circular like the others. _For bugs,_ I thought, _they drill pretty good._ My mind wandered to Boba Fett, legendary bounty hunter and mercenary, and the fact that he'd done this before. How many times was a mystery, though I definitely admired the courage he had in doing this type of work again. I'd been down into one of the abandoned spice mines of Kessel as part of my Praetorian training, working under great fear and pressure, and was forced to hold my ground as two of the massive energy spiders angrily tried to dice me up into a thousand pieces. There, all I'd done was set up a defensive perimeter, watch all the tunnels, and when they entered the mine, use hit and fade tactics with the dark as my ally.

Here, all I had was my tactical knowledge, my understanding of arachnites in general, and my stealth. I hoped to pick up the proper technique for dealing with this type of job by watching Boba Fett, knowing I'd probably get called on at least one more arachnite hunt in my time as a mercenary.

I withdrew from my train of thought, my feet hitting solid rock again. I unclipped my belt hook and gripped my rifle with one hand, adjusting my night vision with the other. "About time you got here," Fett hissed, "Major, take point, you've got the datapad. Fox and I will take the back. We'll have to fight our way to the next access tunnel, so stay frosty. They'll try to flank us from behind. They're ambush hunters. Check your fire, no grenades, and stay in a group. Follow the blood smear on the ground here. Let's move."

I made my way to the rear, my eyes scanning the web covered tunnel. I had no doubt in my mind that they knew we were here, and that they'd avoided attacking us the second we landed only because we proved to be dangerous, and they were mere seconds from returning with reinforcements. I put my back to the Imperials, and slowly followed them, crouched and walking backwards. Fett was doing the same thing, his E-11 panning the ceiling and walls, finger tight on the trigger. As uncomfortable as most would be walking backwards in a pitch dark tunnel occupied by a few hundred giant spiders, I felt no change. In the Imperial Army, every stormtrooper was forced to undergo simulated missions playing the same role Fett and I were in, as to become accustomed to backpedaling and moving in formation. In the Praetorian Program, me and my brothers often had to run entire missions, go on five mile jogs, and even do obstacle courses backwards, blindfolded, with our limbs bound, poisoned, the list went on. I was quite safe in such a position. Fett must've picked up the skill on one of his many operations. My form was smoother, more practiced, no doubt due to better training. Though I had to admit, Boba Fett was certainly as good as any Shadowtrooper, and had more knowledge about the criminal workings of the galaxy.

A hiss sounded down the tunnel, about twenty yards in front of me, in the darkness.

"Here they come," Fett whispered just loud enough for everyone to hear him, "Guns hot, fire at will."

I brought my rifle to bear, waiting for the first spider to come into view, but there was nothing, not even above us. Our group kept our forward pace, one step at a time. Ten seconds slipped by, the only sign of life in the entire tunnel was the slight shuffling of our boots on the sandstone.

I tilted my head to the side, about to ask Fett what they were doing.

Thirty arachnites, each easily a foot bigger in all directions than the last ones, poured into my field of vision, each as fast as a sprinting Vronskrr. "Son of a-" my words were cut off by the nine-shots-per-second stream of lasers that screamed from Fett's E-11, spraying in an accurate arc that dropped the first wave. I joined him, taking aim on the rapidly advancing arachnids. I flicked the selector lever to full auto, sawing a spider in half as I did so. I watched my ammo count drop to the seventies, then the sixties, then fifties, rapidly depleting as I held my ground against the oncoming wave of oversized tarantulas. Fett was now one-handing the E-11, his other slinging green bolts from a modified shotgun blaster pistol. We stood less than a yard from one another, fighting with practiced and well trained movements, firing and killing with lethal fluidity. Behind me, I heard the monotonous drone of the stormtroopers unloading their power packs into what I imagined was a horde twice as large as ours. Five Imperials crouched around Fett and me, adding to our firepower. Still, despite our valiant efforts, the arachnites pressed forward, albeit slowly. We just couldn't hold them off.

I reached down to my E-12 pistol on my chest holster, tearing the blaster free while I held my rifle under one arm, firing from the hip in a wide arc. "Fett," I shouted over the din of gunfire. He cast a glance at me, blindfiring into the onslaught. I held up the pistol, "Smuggler's Flashbang!" I bellowed.

He nodded, then resumed firing.

The Smuggler's Flashbang was a trick used...well, by smugglers. The idea was to take a blaster pistol of medium strength, like the E-12, and load in a power pack. While loading the ammo, one would take a vibroblade and stab the exposed loading mechanism. This would short out the power pack, send a direct torrent of energy through the focusing lens, and release a small wave of loose energy that would numb and stun the enemy in a manner similar to putting your hand in the power channel between the engines of a podracer. The blast was ten, maybe twelve feet wide, and weakened as it traveled. I hoped that the flash of light would be enough to disorient the subterraneans long enough for us to mop them up. Our blasters created a strobe light effect down here, and that didn't seem to bother them, but perhaps a light as bright as an arc welder would do the trick, especially with the static discharge.

I slapped the trooper next to me on his armored shoulder, "Do exactly what I'm doing, and throw yours out in front of the Major. Make it go far," I roared at him so he'd hear me, then ejected the power pack. I pulled my knife from my back, and drove it up into the blasters handle. I heard the mechanism snap, and slammed the power pack in. I pulled the slide, hearing the mechanical whine, then smiled as the whine turned into a buzz that grew louder. I hurled the pistol out into the crowd of legs and pincers, waiting for the explosion.

The flash of light wouldn't have bothered the stormtroopers for more than a second before their helmet's visors polarized, blocking the light out and allowing them to fight. For me, that wasn't the case, and I was smart enough to avoid it. I tucked my head down into my arm, still firing, and heard the bang followed by the crackle of lighting. I looked up, expecting to see several dozen spiders crawling over me and dragging me away to their lair. Instead, my eyes were greeted to twenty or so spiders kicking and flailing their hairy legs in an attempt to gain control over them about thirty feet in front of us. Fett, the stormtroopers, and myself especially wasted no time in mowing them down, reducing the otherwise fearsome creatures into smoldering chunks of hairy flesh. The remaining wave of a few dozen had a difficult time trampeling their fallen brethren without being burned by their charred skin, and were made easy targets by their hesitation.

I reloaded, and scanned the ceiling.

Six had made their way up to the roof of the tunnel before the gun had gone off, escaping the blast. I took aim and fired, killing two with ease but unable to get the others before they dropped down right above our group. The spider felt like it weighed as much as starfighter, pummeling the five stormtroopers in one go and kicking me across the tunnel's width, where I slammed hard on the arc where the floor met the walls. I felt my right arm go numb as I hit my head, frantically searching for my blaster. Fett killed two spiders before the Imperials of the main body spun and decimated the other two.

I looked around for my rifle, but it was gone.

I tugged my heavy revolvers from my thigh holsters, and dumped rounds into the large wave still attacking the front of the stormtrooper team. By my count, four were missing, and I watched in horror as a fifth was grabbed by an arachnite that leapt off the wall, bowled him over, and then drove its pincers into the trooper's eye sockets, pulling both his helmet and face off with one swipe. The man screamed in agony, and the spider latched onto him with a web, scuttling back to the hive. I felt my face contort with rage, and cut the arachnid apart with four thunderous blasts from my pistols. Major Valhalla fired bolt into the troopers head, and then resumed fighting, his face emotionless beneath his helmet. Fett joined the fray, picking off the spiders disoriented from the stormtrooper's Smuggler's Flashbang with surgical precision. I pounded over to him, firing accurate gunslinger-style shots as I did so.

"How many more?" I shouted to Fett, reducing an entire spider leg to ashes with one well placed bark of the revolver.

"Can't be many more," he replied, drawing his vibroblade and hurling it end over end into an arachnite's face. I nodded, still firing. I briefly wondered how we'd manage to keep up at this rate with there still being two more levels between us and the breeding chamber, but said nothing. I felt something hit the back of my boot, and whirled around to level the spider who'd tried to sneak up on me.

Instead, I saw the spider that was dragging away one of the dead troopers. I cut it in two ragged pieces, the barrels of my revolvers growing faintly red. I peered around, searching for the other bugs that I knew had waited until we turned our backs to strike. Surely there was at least one more.

There was.

The thing was on Fett before he could react. Unlike the troopers, Fett slapped the pincers out of the way, firing but two shots into the soft underbelly before the arachnite knocked the gun from his hands. I started forward to help him, but I heard a cry from my right.

I glanced over to see two more stormtroopers fall, pounced on by ravenous spiders who tore their guts out and sprinted away with their screams echoing off the cavernous walls.

_We're getting massacred in here._

I shot the spider pummeling Fett, then charged forward, ramming my shoulder into another, slightly smaller, arachnite that had showed up to take its place. Both me and the bug crashed to the ground. I reacted quicker, drawing my knife and driving it through the belly of the creature three times in rapid succession. The beast squirmed, kicked me hard in the chest. I felt my right shoulder dislocate, and I soared back ten feet, piling up in a heap on the stone floor.

I looked up, expecting to see the thing on me.

Instead, I saw a thin white smoke travel over me. The spider was lost in it, but eventually I heard a gurgled hiss, followed by the sound of the creature writhing and kicking around. I felt a slight tingle on my skin, like having a feather brushed against my face, and instantly retreated. Most airborne nerve agents that killed their prey by inhalation had a tingling effect on the exposed skin, and judging by the way the spiders were dying off like flies, I'd say my guess was pretty much accurate. But Imperials wouldn't carry nerve gas into an enclosed space...unless they knew it would only affect the Arachnites. But that didn't make sense. If they were so prepared to take these spiders on, had so much study and technology wrapped up in this mission, why bring along two mercenaries? I understood that they needed men with experience in tunnels and against this sort of creature, but it actually appeared that they had more than enough training to handle this job alone. Watching the stormtroopers walk unharmed through the gas cloud, I felt myself get suspicious, alert.

The stormtroopers collected ammo packs from their dead comrades, loading them onto their belts and into their blasters as if nothing was amiss. I stared around at them, my apprehension increasing. One of the troopers walked over to the Major and nodded slightly as he went by. Valhalla turned towards Fett and I, holding his datapad as if he was about to give us a status report. The other soldiers moved like they were comfortable, too comfortable for someone in an underground hive infested by massive spider creatures, especially given that most were alert and nervous just before the second wave. A small voice inside my head said, _Something's not right here._

I reflected back on the last hour or two of the mission, searching for details.

_The Major had said that he had no experience with Arachnites, but somehow knew that the spider in the listening post had been a smaller one. Also, they held perfect tunnel-combat formation while engaging, something not generally taught in boot camp. Sure, they could have been prepped for this mission, that would explain the rappelling skill as well. But what about the nerve gas? They couldn't possibly have known what type of gas to use, because Arachitnes change their defenses and immunities to adapt to their environment. The Empire would have had to study a group of them, in this particular hive, for an extended period of time._

_ Something is not right here..._

I slowly brought my revolvers to bear on the Major's chest, unable to see Fett out of the corner of my eye. In my ear, I heard his voice say, "You too? Something's not right, I'm calling this job off."

"And what exactly isn't right, bounty hunter?" Major Valhalla asked, lifting his head and removing his helmet.

I dropped to a crouch, holstering my left revolver and snatching my rifle up from where it had fallen, keeping it at hip level and ready to fire. Fett didn't respond.

"I think our work is done here, Major. You may keep your payment, and we'll be on our way."

The remaining twenty or so stormtroopers took aim on us mercenaries, ready to gun us down at a moment's notice.

Valhalla waved them down, "Don't shoot, we need them. What seems to be the problem, Mr. Fox?"

I cast a sideways glance at Fett, and he shrugged just barely.

"The gas," I replied, keeping my revolver trained on his face, "You couldn't have possibly known what strain to put in it without knowing the exact genetic code of the Arachnites here, in this particular hive. They change their blood types, skin textures, amino acids, everything, in response to their environment," I pulled the hammer back, activating the underslung grenade, "Better start explaining, Major Valhalla, or I fire and blow this tunnel down on top of us."

The Major's face broke into a wide grin, and he clapped his hands together, the sound echoing off the cavernous walls, he pushed a button on his wrist, and then spread his hands wide, "You're good, I must admit. Fett did a good job picking you. Unfortunately, you two are now involved in Imperial matters, and I'm afraid you'll have to come along quietly."

The stormtroopers held their blasters aloft, ready to saw Fett and I in half at the slightest twitch of movement.

"Hands up, fingers off the triggers," Valhalla barked, "Kenden, Breistav, take their blasters."

I held my hands up, revolver still in my right hand. The two stormtroopers moved slowly, reluctant to attempt to disarm the legendary Boba Fett, and me, a new face in the game who'd already shown his lethality and surgical precision on several accounts. I looked at my revolver, at the polished chrome weapon with the silver rose with gold petals etched along the barrel, to the gleaming white wood grip, to the hammer-

The hammer was still pulled back.

I slowly peered to my left, at Fett. One trooper veered off towards him, blaster level with Fett's helmet. The bounty hunter had dropped his rifle, both empty hands pointed towards the roof of the tunnel. The Imperial placed a hand on Fett's wrist, drawing a pair of binder cuffs from his belt. Ten feet away, a stormtrooper did the same to me.

Boba Fett clenched his fists, tilted his head forward, and fired a rocket out of the top of his jetpack, which struck the ceiling with a deafening retort, the force of the explosion slamming me to the floor. I rolled as I landed, stabbing the assault rifle out towards the Imperials, squeezing the trigger down in full auto. I fired the revolver grenade as I rolled, on accident, and heard it detonate far down the tunnel. I heard one trooper shout, then a second blaster fire. I felt heavy chunks of sandstone hit my legs and boots as I scrambled to my feet, landing on all fours and coughing in the dust. A small pile of stones fell from a wide crack in the ceiling, standing about waist high. Most of the stormtroopers, Valhalla included, had dived for cover and were just now picking themselves up. I threw the rifle aside, drawing the second revolver. I picked cheap headshots off while I sidestepped over to where Boba Fett was staggering to his feet. I placed a hand on his shoulder, helping him up.

"We have to move," I roared, splitting a stormtrooper's plasteel helmet with a face shot, "Now!"

Fett placed a gloved hand on my forearm, allowing me to pull him back towards the second level access tunnel, and away from the Imps, who were returning fire. I looked back at them, aiming my second revolver at the ceiling, the hammer drawn back. I fired, the explosive shell launching from the second barrel, striking the crack Fett had made. A blue-white flash preceded another electronic explosion, this time bringing the entire ceiling down.

In the split second before the rocks fell, I glimpsed Major Valhalla glaring at me from a kneeling position, his face battered and bleeding. He held a communicator in one hand, and was shouting as he fired blindly in our direction. His head snapped up just as the roof collapsed on him and his men, blocking them from view.

I looked away, down at where Fett was clutching his thigh.

"You're hit," I said, noticing that the shot failed to cauterize the wound all the way.

Fett grunted, "No, it was a piece of the roof. Get us to the surface. Whatever the Imperials had planned, it wasn't good. We need to get out of here."

I eyed his leg, which was trickling a steady stream of blood down his plated thigh, leaving a trail behind us. "You're marked good, that's for sure. We need to get that patched up, its leaving a trail. Someone's going to follow it if we don't do something, be it Imperial or arachnite. We can't risk that."

I felt the bounty hunter stiffen under my grip, and I paused, worried he'd been hit somewhere else and just realized.

"Too late," he said emotionlessly, pointing ahead of us.

I snapped my head in the direction he was looking in, and almost dropped him.

A dozen stormtroopers were standing under the access tunnel, detaching themselves from cables. They each turned to us, E-11 carbines raised.

_ Damn._


	5. Project Two-Nine-Six

_Imperial Listening Post 2237-B, Yukantar_

_30.8 ABY_

I laid my rifle against the wall, accepting a cup of steaming caf from one of the stormtroopers.

"Thanks," I said, sipping the bitter drink while keeping on full alert for the faintest hint of alarm.

The trooper shrugged, then made his way back over to the hole in the center of the floor. Boba Fett lay on a stretcher next to me, his helmet removed but his face concealed by a facemask that revealed only his eyes. One combat medic tended to his leg.

Fett grabbed the man by the shoulder, shaking him, "Be careful, you Imperial dog."

The medic slapped his hand off, but still eased a Bacta wrap onto the laceration.

We'd ran into this group, a backup team stationed outside to assist Valhalla if something went terribly wrong. Lucky for us, whatever little conspiracy the Major was involved with hadn't been passed down to the Corporal leading this unit. They'd taken us at gunpoint, demanding to know what happened. The Corporal said that he got a static transmission from the Major, but couldn't hear what he said. Then he saw blaster fire and the roof cave in. Fett had been the first to sieze the confusion, spitting out one word that struck fear into the Imperials: Jedi.

I'd picked up his ruse, and spun a short tale of a trap set by the Galactic Alliance, that there were three Jedi waiting in the tunnels, and that we'd seen them just before they cut down Valhalla and his men. We played the wound on Fett's thigh off as it truly was, a piece of the ceiling flaking off and cutting him, though we altered the story to the Jedi using their witchcraft to bring it down, not our grenades. The Corporal had eaten the story up like a child, then escorted us back to the surface. To spice it up, Fett had said, "Move quicker, there must have been thousands of those spiders down there. They're somehow controlled by the Jedi."

Fear had drowned out the common sense in these soldiers, and worked in our favor.

Fett made eye contact with me, and whispered, "I say we vape them and run."

I slowly nodded, reaching for my rifle.

"Sir," One of the troopers said to the Corporal, "I'm getting a faint transmission from Admiral Corben from the _Killzone_."

The Corporal removed his helmet, revealing that he was a dark skinned human, "Give me the holo."

The Corporal's face went serious as he stared down at the miniature of a man in Imperial Officer's attire. "Corporal Gaidur," the Admiral said, "I received a broken transmission from Major Valhalla some time ago."

"I did as well, Admiral."

"I couldn't make heads or tails of it. What's the report?"

The stormtrooper's voice was strong and confident in his reply, despite the fear in his eyes, "Jedi, sir. The two mercenaries claim that they jumped them, killed our men, and are in control of the entire Arachnite hive."

The admiral nodded slowly, then dipped his head. "Bring them for questioning, Corporal. There isn't any Rebel activity in this sector...though they are talented spies and saboteurs, I suppose it's possible. Either way, an interrogator droid will discern the truth."

"Understood, Admiral."

The holocom closed down, and the stormtroopers again pointed their E-11s at Fett and I. "Hands up, bounty hunters," The Corporal barked, "No quick moves. You keep cool and collected and this all goes smoothly, you'll be back wherever you came from by nightfall. Otherwise, you end up incinerated."

I held my hands in plain sight, "We're not hiding anything," my mind formed a plan of attack even as I spoke, "We'll come quietly."

"Good," he slowly lowered his rifle and reached behind him, handing a pair of binders to another trooper, "We'll slip these on as protocol. Move, and you die-"

The floor exploded at his feet, launching half a dozen men and large chunks of stone skyward, once again hurling me across a room. I slammed into Fett on my way, knocking him hard to the floor. My head struck the web coated tiles, and my vision flickered.

...

...

_Tunnels Below Imperial Listening Post 2237-B, Yukantar_

_30.8 ABY_

_Major Aidan Valhalla, Imperial 223__rd__ Infantry, Special Forces._

_One hour earlier._

The larger rocks had missed me entirely, but the smaller ones had thrown my arm out of socket, caved one of my ribs into my lung, and banged up my leg pretty bad.

Those two mercenaries had pulled a quick move, collapsing the tunnel. My damn comm didn't even make it through the layers of sandstone to call for help. I had backup topside, but they'd probably believe whatever cock and bull story Fett came up with.

I punched the wall, chipping the stone. _Damn bounty hunters._

I pressed a Bacta wrap on my knee, trying to ease some of the pain. One of the smaller chunks would have powderized the bone had the plasteel plates not been there. I winced, easing myself up straighter against the rubble, laying my E-11 across my lap. I reached into my belt, pulling the holocom out again. I clicked the side, keying in the second preprogrammed frequency, and waited. After a moment, a small Rodian face illuminated the darkness.

"Major," the face said in its alien attempt at Basic, "You look terrible."

I swore violently, causing the man's head stalks to twitch, "Keep your comments to yourself. Deactivate the field and evacuate."

The Rodian's already massive eyes grew larger, "Sir, are you serious?"

I glared at him in response.

"It will take some time," he responded, "The reactor down here isn't stable. I take it you understand that this will mean both releasing our...specimens onto the planet, and your death, correct?"

I nodded, "The data has all been sent back to the Admiral. He'll decipher it in time, but eventually the truth will out. He'll be very mad at us, Dr. Klicquen, very mad indeed. You know the Imperial protocols involving genetic experimentation."

The Rodian snorted, "This was more than a weapon. These..._miracles_, they're perfect. They could consume entire worlds in days."

I coughed, spitting blood onto my plated hands. "Yes, I know this. Escape, and take our idea elsewhere. I believe one day, when the Empire is stronger, it will use our idea. Project Two-Ninety-Six will not die out. Set the reactor to overload, fry them all. Your data will be sufficient, I believe."

The Rodian nodded, "And what of your original plan? To lead them here to test combat effectiveness?"

I waved a hand, "Someone else will have to make it that far down. You're sure they never left the nest?"

"Positive. The Assassin-spiders never left the Queen's side."

I shrugged, "We've seen their perfection, their brutality. Create and clone a hive of them and no civilization will be able to hold them off. Smarter, faster, and stronger than any normal arachnite, they are."

"And invisible, to complete it all."

"Aye, that too. Goodbye Dr. Klicquen, it's been fun."

"Goodbye, Major. Deactivating containment shield now. Detonating the reactor."

I closed down the comm, leaning my head back against the rubble, coughing a final time as I felt the warm blood creep into my throat.

...

...

_Imperial Listening Post 2237-B, Yukantar_

_30.8 ABY_

_Tonak Enos_

_Present time._

I lifted my head, trying to ignore the thin line of blood that ran across my eye and down my cheek.

I shot a glance in the direction of the explosion. The hole had quadrupled, engulfing the entire floor, save the small ledge that Fett and I laid on. The access to the tunnel was charred, red hot. I squinted at the glowing red sandstone, confused.

_What heats stone like that in one blast?_

I knew seismic charges could do it, for sure. But one of those would have had to have been either underneath of us directly, or so massive that it was the size of a small reactor-

_That's it, a reactor. Yeah, that explains the faint white lines through the stone, it's the atomic stabilizer gas. There's got to be a serious radiation leak._

I rolled over, grabbing Fett under the arm. "Fett, get up," I shook him, and he groaned, "We've got to go. Reactor blew up somewhere below."

He groaned again but didn't respond. I looked around for a medkit, for a shot of adrenaline.

The medic had been blown in half, but his torso still had the sling across his chest with his medical supplies. I flipped him over, removing a small black metal square, one side silver. On the back, it read "Adrenaline, 15cc". I pressed the pad on Fett's neck, and touched the back, injecting the chemical into his bloodstream.

Fett remained still for a moment, then sat bolt upright.

"What the hell happened?"

I stared at him, wondering if fifteen cubic centimeters was too much. "I hit you with adrenaline. We've got to move, reactor blew up somewhere below."

He grabbed his helmet, shook off the bits of stone, and donned it. "Reactor? That explains it all."

I nodded, wondering if we were on the same mental page.

Fett began scrambling to his feet as if he hadn't just lost a dangerous amount of blood, "They had a base or something down below, where they were studying these things. Probably experimenting. They wanted to test them on us and the other stormtroopers, these backup ones. Some kind of weapon, my guess."

I nodded again, relieved that my own conspiracy theory wasn't far off.

"Either way," I said, throwing Fett's arm over my shoulders, "We've got to go. You're not fit to pilot your ship-"

Fett shook his head, "Get us on yours. We can use a remote link to slave my ship behind yours. Special programming."

I nodded, hauling Fett out of the ruined listening post.

The Lambda-class shuttle was still parked where it had been, engines idle and inactive. The _DarkRider_ and _Slave II_ a short distance away. I tapped a key on my wrist, and the engines hummed silently to life.

"Fancy ship, Fox."

I grunted, hefting the Mandolorian's weight, "Yeah, she's one of a kind."

"Where'd you get her?"

I grinned despite myself, "Gift from the Empire."

Fett snorted, but didn't pursue the issue. "Fox," he said, wincing and grabbing his leg, "When we get back to the Alliance, we'll both be fifty grand down. I've got some other jobs I don't want, I'd prefer to stick to bounty hunting. You do them for me, split the cut decently, and we can square this loss here."

I stooped lower to get a better grip on him, "Sounds good, Fett. Let's survive this first-"

A hundred feet away, between us and the ships, the ground began to erupt, large comets of dirt and grass being torn from its place and strewn about. A hole formed, fifty feet wide, and from within it sprouted two hairy front legs of an arachnite easily six feet thick. Each hair was like the tail of a vronskrr, thick and wiry. Two pincers emerged, followed by eight beady eyes and a massive body at least the smae size as the _DarkRider_.

"The queen," Fett spat,

I turned around, heading back towards the ruined listening post, Fett now sprinting freely beside me. Behind us, the ear splitting hiss of the Queen nearly dropped me as I ran.

...

...

"Fett," I shouted, ducking my head as the Queen tore apart the concrete base, trapping us like rats, "There has to be a small armory here, standard Imperial procedure. See if you can find something to do damage."

Fett grunted, then shuffled off down a hallway, fueled by the adrenaline injection.

Outside, the Queen hissed again, and planted one foreleg through the cracked roof, landing on the edge of the still glowing crater. The spider shrieked in pain, withdrawing its burned leg. I seized an E-11 off the ground, aiming it out the window. The Queen was gone, nowhere in sight.

_What in the Force?_

I brought the small scope to eye level, adjusting it to thermal sights. The Queen was right there, scuffling about right outside the bunker. Yet she was not visible to the naked eye. _Some form of Imperial experimenting, no doubt..._

I fired a three round burst at the Queen's eyes, the bolts striking home, leaving fist sized holes that smoked and glowed cherry red. The Queen hissed, backpedaling. Through the scope, I watched her wounds slowly close, healing over at an impossible rate. Apparently the Imperials had done more than I thought.

"Fett," I roared, firing pointlessly at the Queen to keep her from trampeling the base, "What've you got back there?"

I seized my A295 Endor Model blaster rifle from the ground, jamming the barrel out the window and firing fully automatic in the general area where the Queen was, using the E-11 sight as an optic. The A295 was outdated, replaced by the M426 rifle, but it still packed a considerable punch and was accurate up to three hundred yards, more than enough to sever the bottom three feet off the Queen's right foreleg. The Spider writhed in pain, and spit a large wad of grey-blue mist at the base.

The venom instantly disintegrated the walls.

I swore violently, charging back into the hallway Fett had taken. The Queen hissed and trampled the base where I had just been. I followed the corridor until I ran into Fett- literally.

The pair of us crashed to the ground, springing up instantly.

"What're you doing, you ass?" he demanded.

I let the hostility pass, "The Queen's genetically enhanced, it's got acid venom and some form of natural invisibility. And she regenerates her cells very quickly. What've you got in there that'll work?"

Fett shrugged, pointing at the gun racks, "The backup troopers took most of the E-11s, but there are a few grenades and that box on the wall contains a rocket launcher, but it's locked and we don't have time to hack the pad."

I scowled, and the Queen took out another chunk of bunker. I darted over to the terminal beside the rocket launcher, my fingers poking clean through the hovering holokeyboard.

_Imperial Weapons Cache_

_Listening Post 2237-B, Yukantar._

_Weapon Procedure Code- 1149967-9A_

"That's the code used for dealing with an escaped biological specimen, top security clearance is required," I muttered, causing Fett to stop rifling through crates and stare at me.

"Are you sure?"

I ignored him, keying in my old hotcode. Behind us, the Queen tore out another section of base, kicking dust into the armory with a thunderous crash.

_User: Praetorian-#0517x  
Password Clearance: ********_

_Access Granted._

_User Interface Command Requested: Weapon [BlasTech A9X7 Proton Torpedo Launcher]  
Use for quarantine breach of Binring Biomedical Facility AEK-971, Yukantar. Blast Radius of 37 standard feet. Trained personnel only. _

_[[Reiterate Override User Command]]_

_Interface Acknowledges Praetorian-#0517x_

_Opening Cache Case_

"Anytime now, Fox!" Fett roared, firing at the roof as it tore itself away and revealed the snapping pincers of the Queen, who hissed furiously.

I plunged my hands in, seizing the rocket launcher.

_She'll just heal up,_ I thought, _I've only got one shot._

Below the RPG, was a rotary blaster.

A minigun.

_If I can open her up with this, I can fire the torpedo while she's still healing. I'd love to see her recover as all her guts are spilled out on the ground. But I'll need a distraction..._

I tossed an E-11 to Fett and shouted, "Go, I need you to keep her busy!"

He held his hands out as if to say, _What?!_

"Just do it!" I hefted the minigun and the rocket launcher, darting off down a separate corridor. Behind me, I heard the bounty hunter fire a three round burst and pile out a window, swearing the entire while. Two lefts and a right brought me outside, on the opposite side of where the Queen was wreaking havoc on the listening post. Through the shrill air, I heard Fett shout something incoherent. A lance of red light struck the Queen three times, each accurately landing on the joints of her legs. She recoiled, stomping what remained of the bunker into powder.

I dropped to a knee, hefting the minigun at waist height. I thumbed on the laser sight, and squeezed the trigger, the spinning barrels sawing away a massive chunk of the Queen's flesh easily the size of a speeder. I swung the torrent of bolts in a shallow arc, driving her back with the pounding of the firepower.

I could see the area I'd hit her in glowing red, unable to heal.

I dropped the rotary blaster, pulling the rocket launcher to shoulder level. I lined the circular sight up with the exposed flesh, and fired.

The rocket connected, blowing off three legs and erupting a grey spray of blood that looked like a volcano sounding off. The Queen shrieked and hissed, dropping onto her back and rolling over onto her side, writhing and kicking.

I stared at her through the sight of the RPG, waiting for her to die.

She kicked feebly, then fell still.

"Hell yeah!" I roared, throwing my fist into the air.

Fett limped my way, the adrenaline clearly wearing off. "Fox," he shouted, trying hard to run to my position, "Fox!"

I stood, walking towards him, minigun in one hand, rocket launcher in the other.

"Fox!"

"I'm coming, hold on. We'll get you another shot of adrenaline, then-"

The Queen hissed so loud, so high pitched, I thought my ears would bleed. Her legs kicked one last time, then she flickered invisible, to visible, and so on like a light switch. Finally, she remained visible, and her legs curled in, smoke trailing off her corpse.

I clapped a hand on Fett's shoulder, ducking under his arm and supporting him.

"We're good, let's move."

Fett shoved me off, pulling my left revolver from its holster. I froze, watching him closely in case he tried to double cross me.

"Fett, have you lost your mind?"

"Shut up," he waved a hand, "Listen."

I closed my mouth, clenching my teeth shut. Despite being confused, I allowed my senses to expand, listening through the faint wind.

_I don't know what this Mandos problem is, but he'd better get a grip._

Then I heard it.

One hiss, then another, then ten more, then twenty, then fifty. The cacophony was like nails on steel, wretched and vile. I frowned, reflecting on my teachings directly from the old datapads he'd spent years studying.

_Arachnites have a matriarchal society, each serving the Queen._

Well, the Queen's sizzling in a heap.

_During the hive creation, each spider can relate to another via an unexplained mental link, a shared mind, believed to be similar to the Taurill. The Queen gave the orders, the process undiscovered, and her subordinates followed._

The Queen...she must've told the remaining arachnites to come to the surface.

"There can't be any more, a reactor went off down there..."

"Don't count on it," Fett spat, pointing at a rock formation nearby the base, "Back door."

At first I couldn't see what he meant, then I felt my jaw drop.

A section of wall lifted, revealing an open cavern. And from within this cavern, a second Queen emerged, hissing furiously and spitting venom onto the corpse of the first, dissolving it. This one, I noticed, had lines of green weaving across her body, as if the Imperials had painted her using a net.

I readied the minigun, preparing to fight until this beast took me. Beside me, Fett loaded my A295 and dropped into a tactical crouch. The new Queen crouched low, then vanished from view. Where she'd previously been standing, I saw the dirt kick up in deep gouges.

_She jumped,_ I realized in horror.

The Queen could land on us easily from that distance, about three hundred yards, and crush us flat.

"Fett, fire up, anywhere!"

He did, hip firing in a wide arc, his bolts soaring off into the sky.

The Queen revealed herself just as she landed in the ruins of the base, flattening whatever walls still stood. I spun the barrels of the rotary cannon, the stream of crimson lances pounding against her leathery hide. Like the Queen before her, she healed at a ridiculous rate, though the minigun fired too fast, too hard for her to be immune. After a hundred rounds, she began to step backwards. Fett hurled the belt of thermal detonators, which landed under one leg of the Queen. She kicked it, sending it back. Fett opened fire on the belt, hitting it in midair only fifty feet from us.

A blinding flash of blue-white light rocked me off my feet, rolling me hard across the rough ground. Somehow, I managed to keep hold of the minigun. I landed on my side, sliding to a halt. Beside me, Fett was slowly getting to his feet.

"You alright?" I roared, resuming my attack on the Queen, who had crossed a hundred yards in the few seconds we'd been down.

Fett nodded, taking aim on the Queen.

_Good,_ I thought, _because I'm pretty sure we're about to die._

I watched the barrels of the minigun come to a stop, the ammo display reading zero. Across the clearing, the Queen hissed violently.

...

...

_Dr. Klicquen_

I laid down on the ridge of the valley, looking down at the two mercenaries that were causing absurd damage to my beloved Karliah, my prototype Arachnite.

She was the first of her kind, the best. Her child, now dead and dismembered, hadn't inherited the qualities she had been given. Somewhere in the genetic code, her ferocity and endurance had been lessened greatly. I'd fix that next time, after I killed these bounty hunters, and my beloved Karliah.

I thumbed the box in my hand, the detonator to the seismic charge that was sitting idle in the muscle surrounding Karliah's heart. In my other, I held a sticky grenade. Now was the time, the moment to shine. This, along with my other project, Operation Azure Resurgence, was the key to the survival of the Empire. Of course, Azure Resurgence would have to take place many years from now, at a more stable time. This, however, the perfection of this species, was something I must repair now. Though I had to remove all witnesses of my failure.

I thumbed on the grenade, ready to throw it.

The bigger man, the Chiss, spun on the spot, drawing his revolver like a gunslinger. I saw a brief flash of red light, then darkness.

Nothing.

...

...

_Tonak Enos_

The body of the Rodian, a scientist judging by the look of his lab coat, tumbled down the rocky bluff, landing hard at Fett's feet.

I glared at him, scanning the ridge for more.

"Good shooting," Fett choked out between shots.

I grunted, knowing it was no use. The Queen was uneasy about Fett's blaster, but that would run out soon, and she'd run us down like dogs. We could hide in the _DarkRider_, sure. Constructed from the leftover quantum armor from the Sun Crusher, the ship was indestructible. Yet getting to it was another story, an impossible one.

"We need to get to the ships," Fett barked.

I didn't respond, nor did I think he intended me to. I dropped down by the rodian's body, hoping he had some way of handling this, a ray of hope.

In one hand he had the active sticky grenade, something that would only stun the Queen, and in the other he had what looked like a comlink.

I snatched it up, eyeing it. Across the side of the small cylinder, the word _Karliah_ was written.

"Fox," Fett warned, now relying on his pistol to feebly keep the charging Queen at bay.

Karliah wasn't any code name I was familiar with, and I knew them all.

"Fox!"

At the top of the comlink was a thin button. _Why not?_ I thought, pressing the switch.

The Queen's belly exploded in a disgusting shower of grey blood and slime, gore raining down on Fett and I.

The massive spider piled up in a heap ten yards from where we stood, its body still, unmoving.

I looked from it, to the comlink, then back to it.

"Damn," Fett said quietly."

I nodded, realizing what had occurred. "Safety mechanism," I tossed the detonator to Fett, "In case they couldn't control it."

Fett nodded. He rolled the scientist over. His coat read, "Dr. Klicquen, Imperial Head Scientist, Project 296."

Fett kicked the body, then turned, staring out over the wrecked base that now trailed a plume of smoke, to the first queen, then to the second, and finally to me.

"Been one hell of a day."

I nodded, "Yeah, sure has."

Fett extended a hand. I stared at it, almost not believing it after he'd been so adamant in not shaking hands with anyone. I shook it, nodding to him.

"You're good, Fox," he said, his voice raspy and exhausted, "I got beat up pretty bad today, and you pulled through. I've got work, if you're interested, like I mentioned."

I nodded, then laughed.

"What?" he asked humorlessly.

"I'm taking a break first, heading back to Sal Segav, on Devenada. I'll give you my contact codes, but don't get ahold of me for at least a week. Deal?"

Fett snorted, then chuckled. He removed his helmet, revealing the face of a Fett Clone. Unlike the ones I'd studied from the Clone Wars, his face was unique, unaltered. He had short, high-and-tight hair, and a scarred face that showed years of paid bloodshed. His eyes were blue, though they were cold, hard.

"I can live with that," he held up an arm, "Get me back to Corellia, will you?"

I grinned, and grabbed ahold of his forearm, ducking under it and allowing him to put his weight on me as we limped past the two story spider Queen, and towards the _DarkRider_.

Away from the god-forsaken hive.

Away from the Empire.

Away from work, just for a moment.


	6. Double Edge

_Double Edge_

_Unnamed Asteroid Base, Space Around Dantooine._

_31 ABY_

I tapped the earpiece with one hand while forcing the human's head down to the floor with the other.

"Fett," I barked, panting heavily due to my exhaustion, "Ireate Ketekan is in custody, I'm prepping him for the cargo hold."

The man squirmed, choking out obscenities through his gag. I pressed his face harder into the ceramic tiled floor of his "command room", which was little more than a storage area that had been renovated and fitted with atmospherical properties and a gravity unit.

"Good," he replied, his voice as dark and shadowed as ever, "And what of his crew?"

I cast a glance over my shoulder, into the hangar where two destroyed A-Wings and a dozen bodies littered with scorch marks decorated the walls and floor. "Yeah, they're not going anywhere."

Fett sighed, "It is what it is. Take Ketekan to your ship, then bring him to me on Bespin. We'll make the trade, you'll see the contract, you know how this works."

I grunted noncommittally. Boba Fett was still mad that I questioned his honesty about how much he was getting for these jobs he was sending me on, so he began showing me the bill of sale, after a long and drawn out argument where I was certain he was about to waste me with a vibroblade.

Despite that upset, I'd come to respect the Mandolorian in the past couple months I'd been running his odd jobs.

"I'll be there in," I checked my chrono, "Two days. Give or take a day if that damn nebula storm is still raging between Kashyyyk and Udoris."

"Right. I'll be there. Don't be late."

His comm clicked off.

"Alright, boss," I said to the pirate, seizing the scruff of his flight jacket and heaving him to his feet, "You're going to go for a trip. Ever been to Bespin?"

"Can't say that I have," he replied, gritting his teeth as I forcefully walked him out into the hangar where his former crew had been obliterated by my blaster revolvers, "Not sure this is the best time for a vacation, either."

I shrugged sarcastically, _accidentally_ bouncing him off the hull of an A-Wing. "First time for everything, right?"

He snorted derisively, "Look, Chiss," I dug my revolver barrel into his back, "Whatever's he's paying you, I'll double it. I know I screwed up that last hit, but he can't just sell me out."

I raised my eyebrows, steering him across the massive hangar (formerly used by the Empire to store landing craft) towards the _DarkRider_, "Don't care."

"Honestly," he pleaded, "Taking me isn't going to get you anything."

I gave him a rough shake, "Gets me six thousand credits."

He whistled, "Damn, I'm expensive. I didn't even know he _had_ six grand to throw down."

"Actually, it was twelve. The price goes up every year, I swear."

Ketekan sighed, "That it does. I remember running a shipment with Han Solo himself once for the impossibly high price of ten thousand. Thirty years later and this galaxy's economy just up and booms. The rich got richer after the war, and the poor stayed poor. Funny how that works-"

I hurled him headfirst onto the boarding ramp, where he slid down, unable to push himself up due to his bound hands.

"Shut up," I snapped, "And be thankful I'm not just killing you. Whoever hired me likes you enough that they're keeping you alive."

Ketekan loosed a bark of mirthless laughter, "Right," he spat, "The only reason he's keeping me alive is so Price can shoot me himself."

I stopped abruptly halfway through preparing to launch him bodily into the ship.

_Surely not Neslan Price..._

"Price? Price who?"

I spun him around with conviction, my eyes boring into his. I could see the red glow reflecting off his eyes.

"Price, Neslan Price. He runs this whole operation," his face brightened as I felt myself grin, "Yeah, he's got another small team hiding out by Felucia, and one by Ryloth. We hit trade ships, then give him sixty percent."

I brought his face close to mine, my intimidating mask covering the bottom half of my face. "Where is Price?"

Ketekan thought for a moment, then stammered, "I know who you are...you're that mercenary he left for dead on Bakura, aren't you? He said he really pulled the wool over the eyes of some big Chiss guy working for Kojuun. I was with him- not that I had anything to do with that! I just-"

I pressed the revolver barrel to his chin, "Tell me where Price is, or I take the hit on six grand and use my interrogator droid."

Imperial Interrogator Droids were well known and feared for their brutal mind probes that often left the prisoners delirious or dead. "W-Well alright! He's down on Dantooine, with the Felucia group. 'Bout fifty of them, I'd say."

I nodded, seeing he was too afraid of me to lie about it. I let him drop to the ramp, and holstered my blaster.

"Thanks, Ketekan," I clenched my right hand into a tight open palm, "Oh, and by the way. You were set up by a woman, not by Price."

I struck him in the throat with my palm, then slammed his head off the ramp, knocking him out cold. I dragged him into the smaller frontal cargo hold, supposedly used for personal possessions. Lately, it'd become my containment cell. I keyed the door closed behind him, tapping my wrist to close up the ramp and fire the engines to life. As I dropped into the pilot's seat, I thought to myself before taking off.

_I could get Price right now, today. All I'd have to do is land wherever the most conspicuous small base is, and if it's him, waste him. But I'd have to let Fett know, he'd be furious otherwise._

I sighed, keying the comm on the dashboard holo. After a moment, Fett came into view as a miniature, armored and helmed as usual.

"Fett, there's an update. Neslan Price is on Dantooine. He's leading this little pirate gang."

Boba Fett remained still as stone, "You have some problem with him?"

I shrugged, "Something like that."

Fett snorted, "Well, you're in luck. There's a bounty out on Price by Furna the Hutt. Furna took over Jabba's fragmented empire, and apparently shares your lack of taste for Price. Twenty thousand for his head, alive."

I grinned like a kid with his first speeder, "I'll take it."

Fett leaned over his holo, his hands resting on whatever table his comm was on. "That's all good and fine, but some amateur bounty hunter is already there. Goes by the name of Cordellis Freen. Some punk kid. Get him before Freen does and the bounty's yours, at the standard agreement."

I nodded, then signed off.

_Neslan Price,_ I thought, a hand resting on my blaster, _you're about to get rocked._

_..._

_..._

_Abandoned Warehouse, Northern Pole, Dantooine._

_31 ABY_

The northern pole was snowy, riddled with icy hills and bluffs.

I set the _DarkRider_ down, fully cloaked, about a quarter mile above the small base I'd found that had several thermal traces of ships coming in and out of in the last week. Upon arriving, I saw a domed warehouse, probably originally for storing dried foods for the colonies in the south, then later used by pirates and smugglers. I gave up my usual black armor in favor of standard stormtrooper armor (to match the snow) adorned with black tiger stripes. Over my head, I pulled on a thin white balaclava mask to hide my blue skin from any prying eyes. I snatched my new sniper rifle, an Imperial standard issue LD-1 fitted with a polarized scope with fifteen times zoom and a flash suppressor. I peeled the plastoid stock from the rifle, exchanging it for a winter camo version. On my thighs, of course, went my revolvers, and across my back rested my last A295 Endor model blaster rifle.

I sighed a preparatory breath, then keyed the ramp to lower.

I stepped down it, the cold hitting me like a solid wall and nearly stealing my breath from my lungs. Despite the body glove adapting to the temperature, I still felt a minute or so of the planet's frigid North Pole, which robbed my skin of all excess heat. I raised the ramp with a tap of my wrist band, then trudged over to the edge of the cliff, staring down at the base. Raising my rifle to peer through the scope, I watched six sentries patrol the warehouse's perimeter on speeder bikes, hovering slowly on repulsorlifts as to not get buried to their necks in the snow, were they to walk. I dropped to a knee, resting the barrel on an icy rock. Pulling the bolt back to load in the new magazine, I reached up and keyed my scope in for roughly eleven hundred feet, the zoom withdrawing somewhat. As I rested my cheek on the butt of the rifle, I calculated out the level of precision I'd need to take them all out without alerting one another, or the guards inside.

The LD-1 was used by both the Alliance and the Empire for one simple fact: It did not fire laser bolts. To conceal the rifle's shot, thus hiding the shooter, BlasTech had come up with an idea for a _bullet_. Though primitive, the projectile was essentially an oval shaped chunk of smoothed and refined durosteel. To propel this bullet and pierce modern day armor and shields, the company ingeniously used a mixed chemical that would form a reaction when the round left the barrel, ignited by a static charge from the power cell. The power pack would fuel the bullet from the barrel, and then the bullet would have a phosphorous reaction, rendering it white hot, and would travel through nearly any target's head with absurd ease. To even better this weapon, BlasTech came out with a camouflage ammunition line only sold to the military contractors that would alter the color of the phosphorous reaction to match the environment. Here, I obviously used the standard white round, as to not be detected. As sweet as this gun was, it still had a drawback: A laser very rarely produced any bloodshed, as it cauterized the wound as it struck. A phosphorous round would usually result in a half cauterized, half decimated crater in the target that almost always erupted in a shower of crimson mist. In situations like this, a clean white setting, blood was a dead giveaway.

So, I had to pick them off carefully as well as rapidly.

I exhaled, following a lone sentry with my crosshairs. The speeder slowed, and the rider stepped off onto the roof platform, making his way over to a glowing heater that rested on a crate, melting the snow around it. A steel pot of caf steamed beside the heater, awaiting the sentry's use. I squeezed the trigger, the thunderous boom muted to a hiss by the suppressed action, the round striking home on the guard's nose. His head remained intact, though his face buckled inwards while the back of his skull exploded out, spraying the crate with a fine red mist that clashed magnificently with the thin layer of almost melted snow that adorned it.

_One down, five to go._

The second must've heard the first sentry's body hit the roof, because he drew his blaster, creeping up the stairs that led topside. Away from the prying eyes of his fellow guardsmen, I folded him up like a lawnchair with a well placed shot to the heart. Targets three and four were tricker: They were farther out from the base, patrolling as a team along the perimeter of a snowdrift, checking for invaders. I fired on the first, clipping him below the right eye. His head snapped back, and his speeder bike veered to the side, slamming into his partner. The fourth guard soared through the air, his legs flailing over his head. He tumbled and rolled, landing on his back. Even through the scope, I could tell he was dead. A white bone stabbed through his neck from the side, and blood began to creep from his ears and nostrils.

_Nice,_ I thought, _double edge on that one._

I panned across the valley, expecting to see the other two still making their similar run on the far side of the clearing. Instead, I saw two more bodies, each with a series of blaster burns in their skin. Crawling across the ridge, garbed in a white camouflage suit, was a young man with an E-11, no doubt the other bounty hunter Fett spoke of.

I rested my sights on him, ready to vape him without him ever even knowing where I was. I saw the determined look on his face, the eagerness to make a name. In a way, he reminded me of what I used to think Han Solo must've been like, or even Lando Calrissian.

_Damn my conscience._

I tapped my wrist device, signaling my ship. "Computer, patch me through to his comm unit."

The cool female voice responded, "Analyzing frequency data now," a brief moment of silence passed, then, "Comm address identified. Channel open."

I nodded, then tapped my earpiece, "You're not bad, kid," I saw him drop immediately, scanning the area with his blaster, "But you're going to have to back out. This is a personal matter."

"Yeah," he said into his comlink, "I could tell I wasn't alone...Bodies don't just drop. This is my bounty."

I sighed, wishing very much that I would just shoot him and be done with it. "They call me the Blue Fox, maybe you've heard of me," I watched the color drain from his face through the scope, "I can see you very well through this scope. Nice attempt at a beard. Now be on your way and remember that I showed you this courtesy, and that I should've just blasted you. Lucky for you, I know how hard it is to make a name nowadays."

The kid pounded a fist in the snow, but looked resigned. "I know who you are, you work for Boba Fett. Fine, I'll be on my way. Don't shoot me."

I clicked off the comm, and watched him depart. After a few long minutes, a speeder bike took off in the opposite direction, kicking up a tail of white powder.

_Damn kids._

...

...

Down by the warehouse's side entrance, I muscled the speeder bike, more or less a swoop, until it was lined up with the door frame. I tore a piece of starfighter tape with my teeth, latching on my last thermal detonator. "This had better work," I spat, activating the bike's repulsorlifts. I mounted it, pulling on the mask of one of the guards. Without hesitation despite my doubt, I keyed the holocom. A holographic man appeared between the handlebars, looking bored with his feet on a desk.

"What do you want?" he barked, "Your shift isn't over for another hour."

"Something went wrong out here," I cried, forcing my voice to sound panicked, "I saw a few guys with blasters take out the others, I'm pretty sure they're behind me."

The door keeper balked, slapping the control panel. "Get in here, now! Tell me exactly what happened."

The door eased open, and I steered the bike inside.

I was right about the place being used by smugglers in the past. The entire complex was just one large makeshift hangar, with a series of small offices in the back. By each door was a ray shield with a guard posted on the other side, to keep out any intruders. This guard, clearly a bantha's ass, opened the shields without even confirming who I was, saving me the time of talking him down. He pounded over to me, placing a hand on the bike's handlebars.

"What in the Force happened-"

I cut his question off with a knife to the ribs, slamming his head off the bike's fuel tank. He dropped lifelessly to the floor, blood seeping from his worn leather jacket. I fell from the swoop, crouching to avoid being hit by any sharpshooters who may have witnessed the door guard's death. After a moment devoid of blaster fire, I crept forward, A295 poised and ready. Inside the warehouse doors, over two dozen common speeders, civilian models, were parked in uniform lines. In front of these vehicles, about thirty five men and aliens alike formed a half circle around a holotable, where Neslan Price was giving some form of speech. Three men flanked his position, holding plaster pistols at their sides. It didn't appear that any of Neslan's inferiors were armed, however, though I had no doubt that at least a few had smuggled in holdout blasters. Firing wildly into the crowd wouldn't do, they'd pin me in this little guard office. Trying to sneak for a sniper hole was pointless as Price was wanted alive. I looked around the room, my mind calculating out every possible maneuver, every tactical play.

_Glowpanels on the ceiling and walls give off good light, probably connected to a single source. Yes, I can see the power access panel over there by the offices. The back rooms will no doubt have blast doors, so I'd better get Price before he gets in there or I'll have to hack the door. As for these guys, well, I'll use my original plan._

I set the rifle aside, moving back to the bike. I flipped the pins on all the grenades, their blue lights flaring into existence. I reached up, breaking the accelerator down, launching the bike forwards.

Towards the other speeder cars.

I grabbed my rifle and bolted out into the hangar at a crouch, sliding behind the cover of a stack of crates. The bike exploded, the shockwave demolishing three other vehicles and shaking the ground. Had I not covered my ears, I had no doubt I'd have been borderline deaf from that. Lowering my hands, I heard the shouts of the pirates on the other side of the crates. I slung the rifle across my back, drawing my revolvers and pulling the hammers back, loading in the underslung grenades. After taking a preparatory breath, I ducked out from behind my cover, bringing my blasters to eye level. As I'd expected, half the group darted over to the scene of the explosion while the other guarded Price. Price himself, however, had bolted back into the office, though he hadn't locked the door down. Instead, he retrieved a cheap blaster carbine and gave off the impression of courage. Also, like I thought, almost every one of the pirates had drawn a compact blaster pistol from his or her jacket. I fired the grenade from my right revolver directly into a speeder mere inches the group that had inspected the blast, the second explosion launching bodies in all directions. The grenade from my left revolver struck home in the holotable, wiping out a dozen of the pirates at once.

The few remainders, six or seven, took aim on me as I slid behind another stack of crates closer to the offices. Their blasters weren't nearly as powerful as mine, but they still mowed down the wall of the durosteel box, spilling its contents onto the floor. I peeked around the corner, firing a shot from each blaster as I shoulder rolled behind a thick pillar almost a meter across. The pirates chipped away at the column, peppering me with red hot bits of metal. I coughed hard, the dust from the fight catching in my throat. I peered around, firing again only to keep them at bay. Two had moved out of sight towards the crate I'd hid behind, no doubt setting up a flank. I eyed the open crate's contents, hoping to see a munitions stockpile I could blast that would take out the defenders. Instead, I saw what looked like ship components. I recognized a life support system that appeared to belong to a TIE fighter or an X-Wing, a power conduit, and a hyperdrive motivator.

Nothing useful.

The two flanking pirates appeared between the crate and the wall where I'd hid, firing on me. The space was just large enough for both to stand shoulder to shoulder, yet too cramped to turn around and flee. I saw this, and my mind went into attack mode.

_Charge towards them, firing blind._

_ Good, they ducked and stopped shooting. _

_ You're behind the crate now. _

_ Blast them. Damn, revolvers are dry. Holster them._

_ No time for a knife, going to have to wreck them by hand._

_ Jump and kick off the wall, kneeing the first in the teeth._

_ Let him drop. Grab the Bith by the dome and elbow him in the face, smashing one of his large eyes out of socket. _

_Palm strike to the solar plexus, kick the right knee out._

_Duck the sloppy swing, open palm to the throat._

_Knife in the chest._

_The other is getting to his feet. Kick his arm and break it at the elbow._

_Drop down to a knee- yeah, like that- remember that when snapping a human neck, one hand goes on the chin, the other on the back of the head- yes, there- twist vociferously_.

The man fell lifelessly at my feet, splashing the other's blood onto my white armor.

I panted slightly, my muscles burning from the exertion despite my excellent conditioning. Moving that fluidly, that strong, that fast, it took a lot of energy. I quickly slapped in fresh power cylinders into my revolvers, and dove out from behind the crate. The other four were waiting for me, but I could tell by their frantic and inaccurate shots they did not expect me to emerge alive. I dropped two with body shots, the impact of each knocking one up onto the table and the other spinning like a dancer before he fell facedown and lay still. I sat bolt upright, taking aim on the other two, who had thrown their blasters down and raised their hands.

"Don't shoot!" one cried out, "We don't want no part of this anymore."

I glared at them, ready to liberate their heads from their shoulders at a moment's notice. "Fine," I spat just loud enough to be heard, "Get out of here."

The sprinted out of the main space like the cowards they were. I rose only once I heard the blast door open, then close. I threw myself on two legs, walking slowly towards the office where Price hid, the door still not closed. It occurred to me then that he _couldn't_ close the door, or he would have. The panel had been blasted at some point, and no longer functioned. I crossed the threshold into his room, allowing my boots to thud as loud as possible with each step. I had taken out his guards, even the three who were supposedly his personal guard, two of whom I just annihilated by hand, and yet he still cowered in fear. _Why not just give up, Price?_

He poked his head up from behind a shabby desk, his thin beard singed in one place. "What do you want?" he stammered, his face showing great fear. I holstered my revolvers, my grin invisible beneath the balaclava. I removed it, showing him my face. I watched the fear subside slightly, and the confusion dominate his visage.

"Kojuun's pet? What the hell does Kojuun want with me?"

I shrugged, striding over and seizing the smuggler-pirate by the throat and slamming him hard onto the desk. "Not Kojuun," I hissed, "Me. You two sold me out and left me to die on Bakura. What, did the Alliance offer you reverse payment for Ysilvanti's head? Or maybe you two just needed a fall guy after he died to cover your hands in it."

Price didn't respond right away, sweat beading on his forehead. After a moment, he seemed to find his voice, though it was quiet and obviously terrified. "Kojuun needed a fall guy, yeah. All I did was help him find Ysilvanti and be his middle man to contact you, I had nothing to do with it!"

I threw him bodily across the office, where he slammed hard into the far wall. "You knew I was going to be setup," I said calmly, remembering how the Jedi had kept their voices calm to unnerve their enemies into fleeing, "You, a smuggler, sat down in a cantina with another guy just like you, and sold him out knowing he needed the credits. You're a puke, Price."

I stooped down, ignoring his protests, and flattened his nose with a vicious hammer fist. "Now I'm going to have my revenge as the Hutts deal with you. And you know what?" I rolled him over, pressing his face against the floor while I cuffed him with a pair of shock-binders. "I'm going to watch as they most likely throw your ass to a rancor, or maybe the famed Saarlac pit on Tatooine."

Price didn't respond, he just breathed heavily through his broken nose, spitting blood out onto the steel floor.

_There's one part of my revenge._

"Fett," growled, tapping my earpiece, "I've got Price. I'll meet you on Bespin."

After a moment, the bounty hunter replied, his voice sounding surprised, "Good. Don't be late."

I heaved Price to his feet, walking him towards the door, taking every opportunity I could find to bounce him off a surface with unneeded force.

...

...

_Aboard the Rival's Turn, Bespin_

_31 ABY_

Furna the Hutt laughed in his deep, rumbling laugh.

In front of him and his guard, Neslan Price was bound, tears streaming down his face. "Furna, I never tried to cross you, I-"

"Silence, worm," Furna snapped.

I silently thought it was hilarious that the obvious worm-like creature would call another a worm.

"You stole eight fighters from me, Price. Eight. They run twenty grand each, and you took eight. That's almost two hundred large. You know the price for crossing me."

Two of the guards drew their blaster pistols, and fired two bolts each into Price's chest. He loosed a choked cry, then fell still on the floor. I let my hand slip over my own revolvers, ready to gun them all down if I had to. "Boba Fett," Furna rumbled, "You and your mercenary have done me a great service. Take the datacard from my assistant, and you'll find the credits are all as accounted for," his great bulbous yellow eyes turned to me, "I may have work for you in the future, Mr. Fox."

I nodded, silently agreeing with myself that I'd not join a Hutt on any deal. Beside me Fett accepted the card, and made his way to the door that led to the collapsible hatch back to _Slave II_.

As we made our way onto his ship, he removed his helmet, his face emotionless. "You've got talent that it seems everyone notices. You managed to get Ketekan and Price in one day, cutting through fifty men nonetheless. You're a double edged sword. Here," he handed me a second card, "Six from Ketekan, and ten from Price. I'll have another contract for you soon, I'm sure."

I took the card, nodding. "I'll be back home if you need me."

Fett frowned, "Home?"

I chuckled, "Yeah, I live on my ship. I'll dock it on Coruscant, Sector One-One-Nine."

Fett nodded, then looked away dismissively.

_That brings my total to six hundred ninety-six thousand in the bank. Three million's the goal._

_ One step closer._


End file.
